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A     E     T     H 


A    NOVEL. 


AUTUOK  OF 

"BRESSANT,"  "SAXON  STUDIES,"  ETC. 


YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AXD    COMPANY, 

1880. 


ENTERED  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1575,  by 

JULIAN  HAWTHORNE, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TO 


FBANCIS    BENNOCH,    ESQ., 


THE  HEARTY  RESPECT,   GRATITUDE,  AND  AFFECTION, 


THE    AUTHOR. 


2034563 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  I. 

XT  RMHTJR  ST. 

CHAP.      I.  A  Bird-Prologue PAGE  5 

II.  The  Legend  of  the  Threshold 6 

III.  The  Generations 9 

BOOK  II. 
THE   FATHER   OF   THE   MAX. 

IV.  The  Man 13 

V.  An  October  Violet 1*5 

VI.  The  Child ly 

VII.  The  Birch-Rod 23 

VIII.  The  Faurie  Queene 25 

IX.  Calf-Love 2S 

X.  Madge 30 

XI.  Up  a  Tree 3+ 

XII.  Fighting 39 

XIII.  Loving 42 

BOOK  III. 
G  R  O  P  I  X  G. 

XIV.  Antagonisms 46 

XV.  A  Narrow  Escape •. 49 

XVI.  Getting  to  Work 53 

XVII.  Another  Attic  Mystery 57 

XVIII.  An  Explanation 69 

XIX.  Golightley 62 

XX.  News 65 

XXI.  -Dispute 70 

XXII.  Argument T3 

XXIII.  GainandLoss 77 

BOOK  IV. 
'   COLLISION. 

XXIV.  Two  and  a  Pair 82 

XXV.  A  Question  of  Privilege 88 

XXVI.  Characteristics 00 

XXVII.  The  Fireside .  93 

XXVIII.  Golightley's  Double 9g 

XXIX.  A  Kiss  at  Parting 100 

XXX.  The  Studio 101 

XXXI.  The  Picture 106 

XXXII.  A  Customer 103 

XXXIII.  ACritic in 

BOOK  V. 
GRAPPLING. 

XXXIV.  Current  Opinion 115 

XXXV.  Faithful  Enemies 118 

XXXVI.  Boots  and  Eye-Glasses 123 

XXXVII.  Unfaithful  Friends 124 

XXXVIII.  Uncle  and  Nephew 129 

XXXIX.  Lover  and  Mistress 132 

XL.  An  Unfinished  Sentence ..  135 


BOOK  VI. 
LOVE-MAKING  AND   FLIRTATION. 

CHAP.XLI.  Captive  PAGE  139 

XLII.  Dancing  and  Fiddling 144 

XLIII.  A  Couple  of  Innocents 147 

XLIV.  The  Other  Two 151 

XLV.  The  Veil  and  the  Letter 1£5 

XLVI.  Cold  Comfort 15s 

XLVII.  A  Forgathering  of  Forefathers 159 

XLVIII.  A  Powwow 101 

XLIX.  Putting  the  Case 10(5 

BOOK    VII. 
DISCORD   AND   HARMONY. 

L.  Cuthbert 172 

LI.  Four  Tempers  lost 177 

LIl.  Opinion  and  Prejudice ls>2 

LIU.  A  Volunteer Ib4 

LI  V.  A  Sophist 1S7 

LV.  A  Quack 192 

LVI.  Awakening liiO 

LVII.  A  Fresh  Factor 200 

LVIII.  Pickles  and  Cigarettes 203 

BOOK   VIII. 
LEAVEN. 

LIX.  The  Physician 207 

LX.  Nikomis's  Lodger 210 

LXI.  Changes 214 

LXII.  Madge's  Vicissitudes 220 

LXIII.  Poison 223 

LXI V.  Countermining 225 

LXV.  Housework 229 

LXVI.  A  New  Nephew 231 

LXVII.  Craft 234 

BOOK  IX. 
FERMENTATION. 

LXVIII.  Lady  Eleanor 238 

LXIX.  Between  Darkness  and  Light 241 

LXX.  Dates  and  Initials 244 

LXXI.  Christmas  Prospects 247 

LXXII.  Confession  250 

LXXIII.  Next  Morning 254 

LXXI  V.  Two  Old  Cronies 25S 

LXXV.  Mutual  Courtesies 261 

BOOK  X. 
GARTH. 

LXXVL  Getting  under  Way 264 

LXXVII.  Questions  and  Answers 267 

LXXVIII.  Song  and  Frolic 270 

LXXIX.  Grim  Earnest 273 

LXXX.  Brothers 276 

LXXXI.  The  Victim 280 

LXXXII.  Special  Pleading 282 

LXXXIII.  The  Way  of  the  World 285 

LXXX1V.  Urmhurst  steps  down 283 


G    A    E    T    H. 

BOOK  I. 
URM  HURST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   BIRD-PROLOGUE. 

EVERY  clear  morning,  for  more  than  two 
hundred  years  past,  the  rising  sun  had 
thrown  across  the  broad  hip-roof  of  Urm- 
hurst  the  shadow  of  its  eastern  chimney. 
The  earliest  beams,  though  fresh  and  pure 
from  their  ocean-bath,  yet  scrupled  not  to 
embrace  the  weather-worn  old  shaft,  or  to 
kiss  warmly  its  smoke-blackened  mouth. 

The  chimney,  for  its  part,  seldom  suffered 
these  kind  greetings  to  pass  without  due  rec- 
ognition. In  the  winter  months  its  reply 
was  a  jolly  puff  of  blue  smoke,  odorous  of 
the  pungent  spirit  of  the  great  pine-log 
which  had  been  kindled  on  the  hearth  be- 
low. But  its  summer  response  was  livelier 
and,  perhaps,  more  poetical.  First  would 
be  heard  a  mysterious,  soft  rumbling  and 
twittering,  as  though  the  venerable  structure 
were  cleaning  its  sooty  throat  to  say  good- 
inorning;  and  anon,  like  cheerful  thoughts 
born  of  an  aged  heart,  forth  would  flutter, 
from  their  abode  in  the  cavernous  interior, 
a  rejoicing  flock  of  chimney-swallows. 

There  were  dozens  and  scores  of  them. 
Hardly  in  all  New  England,  and  certainly 
not  in  New  Hampshire,  could  be  found  such 
another  chimney  for  swifts  as  this  eastern 
one  of  Urmhurst — so  tall  was  it,  so  roomy, 
so  full  of  convenient  holes  and  crevices. 


Here  had  they  builded  through  generations 
innumerable ;  each  head  of  a  family,  at  his 
decease,  jealously  transmitting  the  chosen 
ancestral  cranny  to  the  eldest  son.  But 
even  the  largest  chimneys  have  a  limit  to 
their  capacity  for  accommodating  lodgers; 
and,  during  the  last  century  or  so,  there  must 
have  occurred  HI  the  swift  colony  many  sad 
but  unavoidable  family  partings.  Every  year 
a  certain  contingent  must  go  forth  to  seek 
their  homes  elsewhere.  They  would  cluster 
together  upon  the  brink  of  their  old  dwell- 
ing ;  and  perhaps  the  less  experienced  among 
them  would  ask  why  they  need  go  farther 
than  just  across  the  roof,  where  the  western 
chimney,  to  all  appearances  the  very  twin 
of  the  eastern,  upreared  itself  in  silent  in- 
vitation. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  child,"  some  wise  old  cock 

would  reply,  whetting  his  beak  against  a 

brick,  and  then  tipping  his  head  sagely  to 

one  side,  "  that  site  is  not  so  eligible  as  it 

looks  to  be.     Not  a  bird  of  us  all  has  ever 

I  settled  there.     The  air  thereabouts  is  very 

i  feverish  and  unwholesome.     In  short,  as  I 

;  said  before,  it's  not  so  eligible  as — " 

"  But  what  makes  the  air  unwholesome, 
grandpa  ?  "  the  youngster  would  break  in. 

"Well,  you  see,  it's  called  the  kitchen- 
chimney  ;  and  wherever,  in  your  future  ca- 
reer, you  come  across  a  chimney  that  is  called 
a  kitchen-chimney,  don't  go  near  it.  They 
are  never  wholesome ;  and  what  makes  it  a 


6 


GARTH. 


greater  pity  is  that  half  the  time  they're  the 
largest  chimneys  in  the  house." 

"In  my  .opinion,  then,  it's  an  outrage; 
and,  if  I  live,  I'll  see  it  righted.  What !  are 
not  chimneys  made  for  chimney-swallows? 
Does  not  our  very  name  demonstrate  it? 
And,  if  so,  why  should  not  one  be  as  good  as 
another? " 

"  But  men  build  them,  you  know,"  begins 
the  old  cock,  whetting  his  bill  apologetically ; 
"and  perhaps  they  may  sometimes  want  to 
use  them  for  some  purposes  of  their  own. 
You  see  there  are  two  sides  to  every  ques- 
tion ;  appearances  are  deceptive,  and,  at  all 
events,  we  ought  to  allow  men  to  plead  their 
own  cause  before  condemning  them." 

"I  disagree  with  you.  You  are  old  and 
timid.  For  me,  I  hold  no  parley  with  in- 
justice— I  crush  it.  Men  build  chimneys, 
perhaps ;  but  that  is  nothing  to  their  credit, 
they  are  obliged  to  do  it  in  order  to  accom- 
modate us.  Under  what  pretext,  then,  can 
they  usurp  the  use  of  them  ?  I  say  no  in- 
justice ever  was  more  flagrant.  It  should  be  a 
standing  heritage  of  indignation  to  the  swift 
colony  until  it  is  righted ;  and,  for  my  part,  I 
am  ready  to  begin  the  good  work  at  once !  " 

"Tut,  tut!  "  says  the  old  one,  "you  are 
young  and  hot-headed;  but  what  can  you 
do  ?  Do  you  suppose  you  are  the  first  bird 
that  ever  was  indignant  ?  No,  nor  will  you 
be  the  last ;  but  the  chimney  will  remain  in- 
eligible, nevertheless.  At  all  events,  don't 
begin  your  reforms  with  Urmhurst ;  for  one 
does  not  meet  every  day,  as  you  will  by-and- 
by  find  out,  vfith  a  human  family  so  uniformly 
considerate  as  these  TJrmsons  of  ours.  For 
example,  in  my  younger  days,"  continued 
the  patriarch,  beginning  the  story  for  the  sev- 
en-hundredth time  at  least — "  in  my  younger 
days,  Garth  Urmson  and  I  became  quite  in- 
timate. The  friendship  originated,  you  must 
know,  in  his  setting  a  fracture  of  this  leg — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes !  "  is  the  unanimous  twit- 
ter of  the  conclave;  "don't  tell  us  that  old 
yarn  again;  we  know  all  about  it,  and  how 
kind  Garth  always  has  been  to  us.  Why 
shouldn't  he  be  ?  Yes,  yes,  yes !  " 

"Quite  so!"  rejoins  the  patriarch,  pre- 
tending not  to  mind  the  interruption,  though 
in  reality  quite  put  off  the  track  of  his  ideas 
by  it — "  quite  so.  Garth  has  always  been 


kind  to  us  since  that  time ;  it  is  out  of  the 
regard  he  feels  for  me.  When  I  am  gone 
you  may  find  a  difference ;  I  hope  not,  but 
you  may !  Yes,  and  the  old  gentleman,  Mr. 
Cuthbert  Urmson,  he  is  very  obliging  also. 
Often  and  often  has  he  put  crumbs  on  his 
study  window-sill  out  of  regard  for  me,  you 
understand ;  and  has  smiled  and  nodded  very 
pleasantly  when  I  came  to  carry  them  off. 
A  charming  old  gentleman  ;  I  feel  a  sympa-. 
thy  for  him.  I  should  not  wonder  if  that 
book  he  is  writing  were  a  history  of  chim- 
ney-swallows; supplemented,  perhaps,  with 
allusions  to  his  own  family  records,  and  to 
the  vicissitudes  of  Urmhurst  itself.  Now,  is 
it  reasonable  to  suppose,"  adds  the  patri- 
arch, suddenly  getting  his  cue  again,  and 
raising  his  chirp  (for  his  audience  was  be- 
traying symptoms  of  inattention) — "is  it 
reasonable,  I  say,  to  accuse  persons,  other- 
wise so  friendly,  of  wantonly — wantonly, 
mark  you! — infringing  upon  our  rights  in  a 
matter  so  vital  as  this?  No,  a  thousand 
times  no!  Depend  upon  it,  some  hidden 
causes  are  at  work  here.  This  old  house  is 
full  of  mysterious  and  sinister  traditions; 
and  who  knows  whether  there  may  not  be 
some  occult  connection  between  the  dinners 
of  our  good  friends  below  there,  and  this 
unwholesome  atmosphere  of  the  kitchen- 
chimney  ? " 

"  Then,"  twitters  the  irreconcilable, 
skimming  away,  "here  goes  for  knocking 
soot  into  their  broth-kettle !  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  THRESHOLD. 

LEAVING  the  annals  of  the  swifts  to  good 
Mr.  Cuthbert  Urmson  (if  such  be  really  the 
subject  of  his  labors),  let  us  observe  with 
how  comfortable  a  familiarity  the  sunshine 
disposes  itself  upon  the  gray-green  lichens 
of  Urmhurst's  shingled  roof,  and  weaves 
golden  fibres  into  the  ponderous  oaken  logs 
wherewith  the  ancient  house  is  built.  An- 
cient— yet  it  seems  to  wax  more  massive 
and  stalwart  year  by  year.  Here  is  no  sag- 
ging of  the  ridge-pole,  nor  leaning  of  the 
uprights,  nor  settling  of  the  granite  founda- 


THE   LEGEND   OF  THE   THRESHOLD. 


tions.  This  oaken  framework  is  stanch  as  a 
mammoth's  skeleton  ;  and  these  log-built 
walls  as  enduring  as  stone  courses.  Perhaps 
the  sun,  during  the  two  centuries  that  he 
has  shone  on  Urmhurst,  has  imparted  to  it, 
along  with  his  heat,  something  likewise  of 
his  immortality.  These  great,  unpainted 
boles,  that  sleep  so  snugly  one  on  another, 
have  acquired  a  ruddy  lustre  suggestive  of 
living  flesh  and  blood;  but  to  the  frailties 
and  infirmities  of  humanity  they  seem  to 
own  no  kinship. 

Urmhurst  faces  the  south ;  and  thus  its  ' 
venerable  front,  rich  in  projections  and  un- 
evennesses,  takes  the  sun's  rays  obliquely, 
and  generates  a  carnival  of  shadows  of  all 
shapes,  sizes,  and  gradations.  The  curt  hip- 
roof is  here  modified  by  the  addition  of  a 
steeply-shelving  curb,  veiling  the  bareness 
of  tlie  upper  story,  as  though  the  house  had 
pulled  its  hat-brim  low  down  over  its  fore- 
head. Through  this  curb  project  the  hooded 
gables  of  three  dormer-windows,  the  central 
one  cut  down  so  as  to  form  a  glass  door, 
whereby  access  is  had  to  a  balcony  sur- 
mounting the  porch.  The  eastern,  known  as 
Eve's  window,  is  framed  in  a  climbing  vine 
of  small  pink  roses.  Below,  the  impending 
eaves  cast  a  contemplative  shade  over  the 
deep-set  casements  of  the  ground-floor  ;  the 
dormers  project  pointed  shadows  aslant ; 
but  the  profoundest  obscurity  always  col- 
lects beneath  the  porch.  This  is  partly  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  pillars  and  canopy,  in- 
stead of  being  carpenter's  work,  are  fash- 
ioned of  living  trees — a  couple  of  gnarled 
and  stunted  oaks,  planted  generations  ago 
on  either  side  the  wide  doorway.  At  the 
height  of  about  twelve  feet  from  the  ground 
their  upward  growth  has  been  arrested,  and 
the  strength  of  their  knotted  limbs  spread 
out  horizontally  above  the  threshold  stone. 
Thus  interlocked,  they  appear  to  grapple 
each  other  like  a  pair  of  misshapen  wrestlers. 
They  support  the  balcony  appertaining  to 
the  second  floor,  and  their  dark  and  sedate 
foliage  lets  fall,  on  whomsoever  passes  be- 
neath, a  transparent  veil  of  gloom. 

This  gloom  has  been  deepened  by  tra- 
dition. The  death-grip  of  the  two  trees 
Avould  seem  to  typify  a  sinister  deed  said  to 
have  been  done  on  the  spot,  which  was  after- 


ward covered  by  the  still-existing  granite 
threshold,  but  which,  at  the  primitive  epoch 
referred  to,  was  the  consecrated  grave  of  a 
mighty  Indian  warrior  and  sachem.  After 
his  death,  his  tribe  had  migrated  to  a  tract 
several  hundred  miles  to  the  southward  ; 
but  his  descendants  (in  obedience  to  some 
pious  superstition)  were  in  the  habit  of 
making  occasional  pilgrimages  to  his  tomb. 
What  mystic  rites  they  observe  there  we 
have  no  means  of  knowing,  but  it  is  be- 
lieved that  every  year,  for  more  than  three 
generations,  the  two  wisest  and  bravest 
chiefs  of  the  tribe  were  chosen  to  make  the 
long  journey  through  the  trackless  forest ; 
and,  so  great  was  the  awe  wherewith  the 
deceased  sachem  was  invested,  not  only  in 
the  eyes  of  his  own  people,  but  also  in  those 
of  other  tribes,  that  the  pilgrims  never  once 
met  with  any  hinderance  on  their  sacred  ex- 
pedition, nor  ever  found  the  solemn  privacy 
of  the  tomb  disturbed. 

But  at  length  there  came  a  year  when 
the  appointed  twain  arrived  to  find  a  strange 
company  there  before  them.  The  grave- 
mound  was  situated  near  the  centre  of  an 
opening — a  natural  glade  in  the  mid-heart 
of  the  primeval  forest.  Around  it  was  now 
assembled  a  troop  of  twenty  or  more  white- 
faced  personages  with  steel  caps  on  their 
heads,  and  wearing  bright  accoutrements, 
which  glistened  in  the  sunshine.  A  number 
of  wagons  were  drawn  up  near  at  hand 
and  fresh-faced  women  were  seated  on  and 
among  the  medley  of  household  goods  where- 
with they  were  laden.  Upon  the  conse- 
crated mound  itself  a  short,  strongly-built 
man,  dark-browed,  and  bearing  in  the  centre 
of  his  chin  a  deep  scar  or  cleft,  had  taken 
his  stand  and  was  haranguing  the  assem- 
blage. Close  to  him  sat  on  horseback  a 
stately  young  woman,  holding  an  infant  in 
her  arms.  She  listened  to  the  man's  ha- 
rangue, her  dark  eyes  fixed  sadly  but  loving- 
ly on  his  face ;  and  when  he  ceased  speaking 
she  turned  to  the  steel-clad  company  and 
uplifted  before  them  her  babe,  uttering  at 
the  same  time  words  of  earnest  encourage- 
ment, to  which  they  of  the  steel  head-pieces 
responded  with  three  loud  shouts  and  a  wav- 
ing of  their  weapons. 

Up  to  this  moment  the  two  Indians,  hid- 


8 


GARTH. 


den  -within  the  leafy  verge  of  the  forest,  had 
looked  on  in  mingled  awe  and  amazement. 
These  were  the  first  white  men  they  had 
seen,  and  they  perhaps  supposed  them  to  be 
a  kind  of  spirits,  come  from  heaven  to  do 
honor  to  the  illustrious  dead.  History,  how- 
ever, bids  us  recognize  them  as  that  sturdy 
band  of  pioneers  whom  Captain  Neil  Urm- 
son,  the  Puritan  soldier  of  Marston  Moor 
and  Naseby,  led,  about  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  into  the  unknown  wil- 
derness west  from  Portsmouth.  Captain 
Urmson  was  a  man  of  undoubted  pith  and 
ability ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  singu- 
lar restlessness  of  disposition  which  drove 
him  forth  from  the  restraints  of  the  Ports- 
mouth colony,  he  would  have  made  a  deep 
mark  in  the  first  pages  of  our  New  England 
history.  Though  harsh  of  aspect  and  un- 
equal in  his  moods,  he  seems  to  have  been  j 
possessed  of  a  peculiar  power  over  the  wills  j 
and  judgments  of  those  with  whom  he  came  j 
in  personal  contact.  "Wealthy,  and  endowed 
with  a  physical  strength  and  energy  excep- 
tional even  in  those  iron  times,  he  might  < 
have  risen  to  the  highest  place  in  almost  any  j 
community.  But  an  uneasy  devil  possessed 
him ;  and,  after  causing  him  to  abandon  the 
prospect  of  a  brilliant  career  in  England  un- 
der the  Protectorate  (which  he  had  helped 
much  to  establish),  it  haunted  him  even  in  j 
his  self-imposed  exile  over-seas.  Scarce  four 
months  after  his  disembarkation  at  Ports- 
mouth, he  already  showed  symptoms  of  dis- 
content. Much  was  done  to  appease  him, 
for  the  little  colony  could  ill  afford  to  be  at 
odds  with  so  rich  and  able  a  member  as 
Captain  Urmson.  But  it  was  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. Imperiously  rejecting  advice  and  rea- 
son, he  packed  his  wagons,  collected  his  peo- 
ple, and  departed  northwestward.  Nothing 
more  was  heard  of  him,  and  he  was  soon 
given  up  for  lost.  But  boldness  and  sa- 
gacity were  his  safeguard  through  the  wild 
difficulties  and  perils  of  the  forest.  He  man- 
aged either  to  awe  or  to  conciliate  such  In- 
dians as  crossed  his  path  ;  and  when,  some 
months  after  leaving  the  colony,  he  and  his 
followers  halted  at  last  on  the  site  of  the 
sachem's  grave,  not  a  man  of  them  all  was 
missing,  or  had  suffered  in  health  or  limb. 
At  this  point,  however,  blood  was  spilt. 


Captain  Urmson,  in  haranguing  his  retain- 
ers, had  bade  them  look  upon  this  forest- 
glade  as  the  nucleus  of  their  future  home  ; 
and  his  wife  Eleanor  had  cheered  them  by 
showing  the  undaunted  front  of  little  Ralph, 
a  pioneer  less  than  a  year  old — for  he  was 
born  at  sea.  Thereupon  -the  captain,  snatch- 
ing a  pickaxe  from  the  hand  of  one  of  the 
men  standing  near  him — John  Selwyn  by 
name — and  with  the  words,  "  Here,  in  this 
virgin  soil,  where  are  no  dead  bones  or 
blood-stains  of  the  past,  will  I  set  the  thresh- 
old of  our  new  life!" — with  this  singularly 
infelicitous  exclamation,  he  raised  the  heavy 
pick  above  his  head,  and  then  drove  it  deep 
into  the  green  turf  of  the  unsuspected  grave. 

Before  he  could  uplift  it  for  another 
stroke,  a  wild  yell  broke  startling  on  the 
ears  of  all.  All  recognized  the  Indian  war- 
whoop,  and,  fancying  themselves  attacked 
by  a  whole  tribe  at  once,  they  fell  for  a  mo- 
ment into  something  like  confusion.  Mean- 
while, two  dusky  figures,  with  long  black 
hair  and  brandished  tomahawks,  had  bound- 
ed forward  from  the  concealment  of  the 
trees.  One  of  them  sprang  at  Captain 
Urmson,  and  wrenched  the  pickaxe  from 
his  hand.  The  suddenness  and  audacity  of 
the  savage  apparition  increased  the  dismay 
of  the  white  men,  not  one  of  whom  stirred 
in  defense.  But  on  Neil  Urmson's  swarthy 
face  there  was  at  once  a  smile  and  a  dark 
frown.  Eleanor,  who  had  seen  that  ex- 
pression once  before  at  a  momentous  epoch 
in  their  lives,  turned  pale  and  tried  to  re- 
strain him  as  he  was  drawing  the  heavy  pis- 
tol from  his  belt. 

"Do  not,  husband!"  she  said.  "Re- 
member our  wedding-day ;  defile  not  like- 
wise this  first  hour  of  our  new  life  with 
blood ! " 

Tradition  affirms  that  Urmson  did  hesi- 
tate for  a  moment,  with  his  hand  on  the 
butt  of  the  pistol.  And  then  was  heard  the 
stentorian  voice  of  the  Reverend  Anak 
Graeme,  who  had  accompanied  Urmson 
from  England,  and  was  rumored  to  have 
been  the  officiating  clergyman  at  his  mar- 
riage, "Verily,  methinks  it  were  well  to 
parley  with  the  heathen  before  slaying 
them !  " 

"  "Well  said  1 "  cried  John  Selwyn,  a  slen- 


THE  GENERATIONS. 


9 


derly- built  man,  with  bold  eyes  and  careless  ] 
bearing.     "  Give  the  devil  his  due,  captain,  j 
For  aught  we  know,  these  red-skinned  sin- 
ners may  have  better  right  here  than  we  !  " 

But,  even  as  he  spoke,  the  second  Indian, 
who  was  younger  and  presumably  less  steady 
than  his  companion,  drew  his  bow  and  let 
ily  an  arrow.  It  glanced  harmlessly  from 
the  captain's  polished  helmet,  and  pierced 
Eleanor's  shoulder,  and  the  face  of  little 
Ralph  was  smeared  with  her  blood.  As 
quick  as  thought  Neil  leveled  his  pistol  and 
fired  right  into  the  heart  of  the  first  Indian, 
who  was  close  in  front  of  him.  The  tall 
savage  leaped  from  the  ground,  and  falling 
prone,  his  brawny  arms  hugged  the  grave 
of  his  dishonored  ancestor,  and  his  teeth  bit 
the  turf.  Eleanor,  though  sorely  wounded, 
clasped  her  child  to  her  bosom  and  strove 
to  support  herself  upon  her  frightened 
horse.  Scarce  a  minute  had  elapsed  since 
the  first  alarm  of  the  war-whoop. 

By  the  time  the  smoke  of  Captain  Neil's 
pistol  had  cleared  away,  his  retainers  had 
formed  to  resist  as  best  they  might  the  ex- 
pected onslaught.  But  they  waited  in  vain. 
Only  the  dark  trunks  of  the  mighty  oaks 
and  hemlocks  surrounded  them,  and  there 
was  no  sound  save  the  twittering  of  scared 
birds,  and  the  rustle  of  the  leaves  in  the 
summer  wind.  No  avengers  came ;  or,  if 
any,  not  then,  nor  for  many  a  year  there- 
after. The  second  Indian  had  fled,  silently 
as  a  dream,  toward  the  distant  wigwams  of 
his  tribe,  there  to  keep  alive,  as  tradition 
would  have  us  believe,  an  hereditary  mem- 
ory of  the  sacrilege  and  a  purpose  of  re- 
quital. A  neighboring  stream,  which  rushes 
headlong  over  a  jagged  bed  of  rocks  and 
empties  into  a  lake  some  miles  away,  is  still 
pointed  out  as  having  been  traversed  by  the 
fugitive  in  his  desperate  canoe. 

Having  assured  themselves  of  their  safe- 
ty, the  colonists  had  leisure  to  take  thought 
concerning  the  dead  and  wounded.  As  to 
the  former,  it  was  resolved,  in  accordance 
with  Captain  Urmson's  suggestion,  to  bury 
the  heathen  on  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen, 
and  to  make  his  gravestone  the  threshold  of 
the  projected  edifice.  "  For  it  is  fitting," 
said  the  grim  Puritan,  "  and  an  emblem  of 
what  shall  surely  come  to  pass  throughout 


this  land,  that  in  entering  our  new  home  we 
plant  our  foot  first  upon  the  bones  of  the 
red-man." 

In  digging  the  grave,  however,  the  relics 
of  the  ancient  sachem  were  revealed,  and 
the  mysterious  attack  of  the  two  Indians 
thereby  explained.  The  grave-diggers  here- 
upon shook  their  heads,  and  were  reluctant 
to  proceed  ;  and  John  Selwyn  threw  down 
his  spade,  and  flatly  refused  to  have  any- 
thing more  to  do  with  the  business  ;  declar- 
ing, with  sundry  strange  oaths  peculiar  to 
him,  that  no  good  would  come  of  stealing 
dead  men's  ground,  and  that,  rather  than 
live  there,  he  would  part  from  the  colony 
and  seek  his  fortune  alone.  Captain  Urm- 
son,  then,  having  resolutely  confronted  his 
enemies  while  they  were  alive,  was  not  in- 
clined to  be  squeamish  about  them  dead. 
Taking  Selwyn's  spade,  and  thrusting  the 
other  men  aside,  he  finished  the  grave  him- 
self, and  pitched  into  it  the  body  of  the 
slain,  and  covered  up  the  corpse  with  the 
earth-stained  skeleton  of  the  original  occu- 
pant. He  stamped  the  earth  level  with  his 
booted  feet,  and  looking  with  glowing  eyes 
into  the  faces  of  the  silent  group  who  had 
stood  watching  his  ill-omened  toil — "  It  is 
my  deed,"  he  said,  "  and  thus  do  I  trample 
down  this  blood,  and  all  superstitious  ter- 
rors ! " 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE     GENERATIONS. 

Srcn  is  the  gloomy  legend  that  underlies 
the  threshold  of  our  story.  Selwyn  was  as 
good  as  his  word,  and  departed  with  what 
few  possessions  he  had ;  being  the  first  of 
Captain  Urmson's  followers  who  had  ever 
had  the  hardihood  to  desert  him.  Never- 
theless, Urmhurst  was  built,  and  a  huge  slab 
of  rough-hewed  granite,  heavy  enough  to 
have  kept  down  the  most  athletic  ghost, 
pressed  its  weight  above  the  nameless  re- 
mains. It  so  happened,  however,  that  the 
frost  of  the  ensuing  winter,  or  some  other 
less  obvious  agent,  cracked  the  ponderous 
stone  across  its  entire  breadth;  and  this 
cleft,  from  a  variety  of  causes,  became  after- 


10 


GARTH. 


ward  so  much  widened  that,  at  the  epoch 
of  which  I  am  to  write,  there  were  two  dis- 
tinct thresholds  instead  of  one,  with  a  gap 
of  two  or  three  inches  between  them.  This 
accident  was  interpreted  by  the  sagacious  as 
a  sign  that  the  blood  which  Xeil  Urmson 
had  so  arrogantly  trodden  into  the  earth 
would  one  day  rise  against  him ;  and  for 
many  years  whatever  misfortune  befell  the 
family,  whether  or  not  really  ascribable  to 
the  Indians,  was  by  such  sapient  persons  un- 
erringly referred  to  a  birthplace  beneath  the 
cloven  threshold. 

Urinhurst  was  built ;  but,  at  least  during 
its  builder's  lifetime,  it  could  hardly  have  been 
a  cheerful  dwelling-place.  Eleanor  never 
recovered  from  the  effects  of  her  wound. 
She  lingered  through  several  months;  but, 
when  the  house  was  at  last  completed, 
she  had  to  be  carried  to  her  chamber  and 
laid  upon  the  bed  which  she  left  only  for 
the  graveyard.  Hints  have  come  down  to 
us  that  her  death  was  hastened  by  mental 
disquietude;  and  her  reference,  when  trying 
to  dissuade  hep  husband  from  bloodshed,  to 
something  which  had  happened  on  their 
wedding-day,  has  been  quoted  in  support  of 
this  notion.  Furthermore,  attempts  have 
been  made  to  trace  a  connection  between 
the  purport  of  these  words  of  hers  and  the 
sudden  self-banishment  of  Captain  Urmson 
from  England.  His  family  had  been  a  promi- 
nent and  powerful  one ;  the  English  Urm- 
hurst  was  a  valuable  estate;  and  the  Crom- 
wellian  party,  of  which  the  captain  was  an 
adherent,  was  just  establishing  its  supremacy 
when  he  exiled  himself.  Had  he  remained 
he  must  presumably  have  filled  a  high  office 
under  the  new  government.  Why  had  he 
fled?  Not,  surely,  from  religious  motives, 
since  he  had  never  been  a  religious  bigot ; 
and  though  after  his  emigration  he  was  oc- 
casionally subject  to  violent  fits  of  fanaticism, 
yet  these  had  no  root  in  his  nature,  and  gen- 
erally left  him  with  a  tendency  toward  reac- 
tion. The  explanation  therefore  must  be 
sought  elsewhere ;  and,  putting  what  was 
known  and  what  was  surmised  together,  the 
conclusion  was  reached  that  Captain  Urm- 
son had  done  some  deed  rendering  himself 
alike  odious  to  his  own  and  the  opposite 
party ;  and  that  his  marriage  with  Eleanor 


'  had  somehow  been  either  the  incitement  to 
this  deed  or  the  occasion  of  it. 

To  button-hole  the  captain  and  ask  him 
the  simple  question  whose  answer  would  put 
an  end  to  conjecture,  might  seem  a  simple 
matter ;  but  there  were  serious  obstacles  to 
this  course.     The  first  master  of  Urmhurst 
would  certainly  have  knocked  down  whom- 
soever had  presumed  to  catechise  him,  and 
i  possibly  would  not  have  been  contented  to 
'  stop  even  there.     He  had  never  been  dis- 
,  tinguished  for  affability,  and  after  his  wife's 
!  death  he  became  uncompromisingly  savage. 
'  He  shut  himself  up  in  his  fort  (for  Urmhurst 
1  was  really  little  more  than  that  in  his  life- 
i  time),  and  devoted  himself  to  the  education 
of  his  son  Ralph,  who  is  said  to  have  strong- 
!  ly  resembled  his  father,  even  to  the  cleft  in 
1  the  chin.     The  captain  had  no  near  neigh - 
j  bors,  Urmhurst   standing  then,  as  always, 
alone.     The  other  members  of  the  colony 
built  their  huts  on  the  banks  of  the  rapid 
stream  to  the  westward,  thus  forming  the 
germ  of  the  prosperous  little  village  of  Urms- 
|  worth,  which  exists  there  to-day.     This  se- 

•  cession  may  have  been  owing  to  those  super- 
|  stitious  terrors  which  Urmson  himself  had 
;  professed  to  despise ;  but  it  is  as  readily  ex- 
i  plained  by  the  circumstance  that,  although 
j  the   situation  of  Urmhurst  itself  is  unap- 
'  proachably  fine,  there  happens  to  be  no  other 
i  site  in  the  vicinity  even  tolerably  eligible. 

The  house,  as  we  behold  it  now,  rises 
!  from  the  summit  of  a  smooth,  grassy  knoll, 
j  barely  half  an  acre  in  area.  This  knoll  is 
I  itself  the  culminating  point  of  a  long  and 
'  gradual  acclivity,  ascending  by  almost  im- 
l  perceptible  degrees  from  the  broad  southern 
1  valley.  The  real  loftiness  of  the  site  can 
'  be  realized  only  by  considering  how  wide  a 
:  sweep  of  prospect  it  commands  over  a  scene 
\  of  beauty  at  once  noble  and  peaceful.  The 
j  wooded  slopes  trend  majestically  southward 
j  till  they  merge  in  the  broad  gleam  of  a  lake 
some  three  miles  away.  Beyond  appear  at 

•  intervals  the  white  reaches  of  a  placid  stream, 
winding  onward  through  miles  of  level  cran- 
berry-pastures, which  themselves  resemble 
a  gigantic  green  river,  slumbering  between 

I  wooded  shores.  The  farther  extremity  of 
I  this  valley  is  sentineled  by  a  mountain — or 
|  rather  a  group  of  high  hills — having  the  np- 


THE   GENERATIONS. 


11 


pearance,  from  the  point  of  view  of  Urm- 
hurst,  of  a  crouching  lion,  whoso  shaggy 
head  rests  ponderously  on  his  fore-paws. 

The  Indian  name  of  this  mountain  is  Wa- 
beno — the  Juggler;  perhaps  in  allusion  to 
the  protean  changes  which  the  seasons  and 
the  variations  of  the  weather  cause  him  to 
undergo.  In  spring  he  acquires  a  dark-blu- 
ish tinge,  especially  in  the  early  morning, 
when  the  moist  haziness  of  the  atmosphere 
is  supplemented  by  the  fleecy  mists  which 
ascend  from  the  meadows  and  clamber  up 
his  headlong  sides.  In  summer  his  coat  is 
shadowed  purple,  with  greenish  lights;  and  • 
monster  thunder-clouds  sweep  and  burst  over 
his  crest,  letting  througli  broad,  slanting  bars 
of  gauzy  light.  In  autumn  his  mane  grows 
tawny,  and  the  clear  air  magnifies  him,  so 
that  he  appears  nearer  by  several  miles  than 
at  other  seasons.  In  times  of  drought  he 
occasionally  takes  fire,  and  lies  swathed  for 
days  or  weeks  in  mysterious  clouds  of  shift- 
ing smoke,  which  by  night  are  illumined 
with  a  dull  russet  glow,  like  that  reflected  \ 
upward  from  the  profound  pit  of  a  volcano.  I 
Winter  makes  him  gray  and  ghost-like;  and 
when  in  long  December  nights  the  white 
moon  hangs  above  him  in  the  frosty  sky,  he 
seems  in  truth  no  more  substantial  than  an 
horizon  cloud.  In  snow-storms  he  vanishes 
quite  away;  but  when  the  northern  winds 
have  cleared  the  valley,  there  he  looms  as 
before — a  lion  in  the  path !  After  all  this 
phantom  show  of  life  and  activity,  behold ! 
he  crouches  impassive  and  motionless,  his 
shaggy  head  upon  his  paws.  There  he  lies, 
and  seems  to  watch  the  old  house,  that 
watches  back  from  its  lonely  station  twenty  ! 
miles  away. 

It  has  been  fancifully  affirmed  that  Wa- 
beno  is  in  fact  neither  a  mountain  nor  a  lion, 
but  an  incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  that  incor- 
rigible old  sachem  whose  dust  lies  under- 
neath Urmhurst's  threshold-stone.     And  it 
is  farther  stated  that  when  Urmhurst  shall 
step  down  from  between  the  two  tower- 
like  chimneys  to  which  it  has  been  moored 
during  so  many  generations,  Wabeno  will 
spring  up  and  emit  a  roar  which  shall  make  i 
Xew  Hampshire  tremble.     If  we  grant  the  j 
first  act  of  this  drama,  we  might  admit  the  j 
second ;    but  the  ancient  mansion   budges 


not!  It  has  rested  so  long  on  its  granite 
foundations  that  it  has  almost  become  a  part 
of  the  continent  itself.  Like  some  imme- 
morial oak-tree,  it  has  thrown  out  roots  far 
and  near  and  on  every  side,  so  that  its  up- 
heaval would  tear  open  the  ground  for  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  circuit.  It  is  the  eye 
and  key  of  the  landscape,  harmonizing  so 
justly  with  its  surroundings  that  any  alter- 
ation would  seem  tantamount  to  the  viola- 
tion of  a  natural  law. 

This  semblance  of  spontaneous  growth  is 
enhanced  by  the  devious  footpaths  which 
lead  this  way  and  that  from  the  doors,  acd 
journey  in  time  -  worn  furrows  down  the 
slopes.  We  cannot  call  them  artificial,  for 
they  were  honestly  worn  by  the  footsteps 
of  generations,  and  therefore  fill  precisely 
their  natural  places.  Yonder,  where  it  goes 
up  the  acclivity,  the  track  is  narrow  but 
deeply  worn ;  whereas,  above,  it  broadens 
and  throws  off  a  lighter  sideway  parallel  to 
itself.  See  again  how  deftly  it  avoids  that 
jut  of  rock;  and  here,  how  sagaciously  it 
slips  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  great  elm. 
In  a  similar  manner  do  the  other  accessories 
of  the  dwelling  conspire  to  fix  it  more  in- 
timately in  its  place.  The  antique  well- 
sweep,  poised  like  a  giant's  fishing-pole,  in 
the  crotch  of  a  tree ;  the  barn,  which  looks 
older  than  the  house,  though  in  reality  its 
junior  by  near  a  century ;  the  great  orchard 
in  the  rear  toAvard  the  north,  containing 
trees  off  which  old  Neil  himself  might  have 
gathered  apples — all  these  things  are  mar- 
riage-tokens. 

And  finally  there  is  the  graveyard,  indis- 
solublest  bond  of  all,  since  it  is  a  moral  as 
well  as  &  natural  one.  It  lies  about  a  hun- 
dred paces  eastward,  and  takes  the  earliest 
sunshine.  It  is  well  populated,  this  little 
inclosure,  for  although  the  Urmson  race  has 
ever  been  a  turbulent  and  adventurous  one 
— many  of  them  followers  of  the  sea,  or 
fighters  against  whomsoever  there  was  to 
fight,  Indian,  Frenchman,  or  Englishman, 
as  the  case  might  be — it  has,  nevertheless, 
happened  that  most  of  them  wandered  home 
to  die.  The  burial-ground  was  consecrated 
by  that  same  Reverend  Anak  of  whom  we 
have  already  had  a  glimpse — he  who  mar- 
ried Eleanor  to  Neil,  and  came  with  them 


12 


GARTH. 


to  the  New  World.  This  worthy  man  of 
God  lived  to  pronounce  another  than  the 
marriage  service  over  the  pair:  they  are 
buried  in  one  grave.  The  imaginative  mor- 
alizer  will  observe  that,  although  Eleanor's 
epitaph  is  still  legible,  in  that  of  her  hus- 
band, who  died  nearly  forty  years  later,  only 
the  single  word  "died"  has  survived  ob- 
literation. 

Near  at  hand  stands  the  tombstone  of 
Ralph,  who,  if  report  be  true,  inherited  all 
the  bad  and  gloomy  traits  of  his  father,  with 
few  of  his  virtues.  But  he  was  gifted  with 
the  same  peculiar  personal  influence  over 
the  minds  and  wills  of  others  that  Neil  had 
possessed.  It  was  remarked,  however,  that 
as  often  as  the  Urmsons  had  their  way  in  a 
matter  (and  they  seldom  failed  to  have  it), 
it  turned  to  their  disadvantage.  Their  luck, 
in  other  words,  was  their  misfortune.  Now, 
if  there  be  a  certain  crisis  in  the  life  of  every 
man,  when  a  depraved  or  impious  passion 
engages  in  final  contest  with  better  knowl- 
edge and  purer  instincts,  could  the  latter's 
defeat  be  more  fitly  punished  than  by  doom- 
ing the  sinner  to  act  successfully  out,  forever 
afterward,  his  unrestrained  and  unrepentant 
self?  So  may  it  have  fared  with  these  dark- 
browed,  hot-hearted  Urmsons,  who  often 
seemed  to  carry  all  before  them  at  the  very 
moment  when  they  were  being  hurried  to 
their  own  destruction. 

We  search  in  vain  among  the  tombstones 
for  the  record  of  any  daughter  of  the  Urm- 
son  name.  For  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that, 
since  the  epoch  of  their  emigration,  no 
woman-child  has  been  born  to  them  —  as 
though  the  family  nature  were  too  harsh 
and  gloomy  to  produce  a  feminine  flower. 
Not  a  daughter  in  seven  generations?  Yes, 
one  there  has  been,  and  within  the  present 
century ;  but  there  is  more  of  sorrow  than 
of  joy  in  the  mention  of  her  name.  Eve 
Urmson  was  the  daughter  of  Garth's  grand- 
father— old  Brian,  of  Revolutionary  renown. 
She  is  described  as  having  been  a  peculiar 
but  fascinating  child,  and  the  old  warrior  is 
said  to  have  taken  boundless  pride  and  de- 
light in  her.  When  she  was  ten  years  old, 
Eve  disappeared,  and  was  never  afterward 
heard  of.  It  was  conjectured  that  a  party 
of  Indians,  who  were  known  to  have  been 


in  the  neighborhood  about  the  time  of  the 
child's  disappearance,  had  kidnapped  her; 
and  such  of  the  old  wives  and  village  ora- 
cles as  had  kej>t  alive  a  memory  of  the 
legends,  maintained  that  the  kidnappers 
were  no  other  than  the  lineal  descendants 
of  the  sachem  and  his  murdered  defend- 
er, who  thus  wreaked  their  revenge.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  Urmhurst's  greatest  blessing 
was  thus  changed  into  its  saddest  misfor- 
tune. 

A  lack  of  the  feminine  element  is  notice- 
able about  the  house;  its  features  and  as- 
pects, though  for  the  most  part  picturesque, 
are  too  massive  and  masculine.  Eve's  cham- 
ber is  the  only  exception ;  it  has  been  pre- 
served nearly  as  she  left  it,  and  the  rose-vine, 
which  her  childish  hands  planted,  clambers 
unrestrained  over  her  window.  But  there 
is  need  of  a  living  and  loving  woman  in  these 
great,  old-fashioned,  wainscoted  rooms. 
Garth's  mother  died  while  he  was  in  col- 
lege; and  latterly  he  and  his  father — who 
is  a  son  of  Brian  Urmson  by  a  first  marriage, 
and  half-brother  to  the  lost  Eve — have  lived 
here  pretty  much  by  themselves,  each  im- 
mersed in  his  own  chosen  pursuit,  and  put- 
ting the  maintenance  of  the  farm  in  the  light 
of  a  recreation.  The  only  other  member 
of  the  family  known  to  be  alive  is  an  own 
brother  of  Eve's  named  Golightley  —  the 
name  of  his  mother's  family,  old  settlers  of 
Virginia.  Golightley  was  remembered  in 
Urmsworth  village  as  a  talented  and  affable 
youth,  whose  delicate  constitution  unfitted 
him  for  the  pursuit  of  any  hard-working 
profession,  and  who  went  to  Europe  in  quest 
of  health  and  of  that  aesthetic  culture  which 
his  soul  craved.  Apparently  he  must  have 
found  what  he  sought,  for  he  had  already 
been  absent  more  than  twenty  years  without 
betraying  any  inclination  to  return. 

But  it  is  time  to  bring  this  preliminary 
chat  to  a  close.  Urmhurst  still  stands  in  the 
woods,  though  now  the  primitive  forest-glade 
has  expanded  into  a  clearing  of  thirty  acres, 
chiefly  comprising  the  profile  of  the  southern 
slope.  Part  of  this  land  is  used  as  a  vege- 
table-garden ;  there  are  corn  and  potato 
fields,  and  ample  pasturage  for  cows  and 
horses.  As  for  the  interior  of  the  mansion, 
it  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  an  antique  spa- 


THE  MAX. 


13 


ciousness  of  hall  and  staircase,  a  suggestive 
mystery  of  garret  and  cellar,  and  a  noble 
extravagance  of  hearth  and  chimney-corner. 


But  it  is  rather  with  the  Urrasons  than  with 
their  dwelling  that  we  are  presently  con- 
cerned. 


BOOK  II. 
THE  FATHER    OF  THE  HAN. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    MAX. 

A  BROAD-BUILT  young  fellow,  about  twen- 
ty-six years  of  age,  but  looking  older,  stands 
on  the  cloven  threshold  of  Urmhurst,  with 
his  feet  apart  and  his  face  bent  downward, 
as  though  in  reverie.  His  eyes,  however,  are 
rather  outlooking  than  introspective;  and, 
considering  how  fair  a  prospect  lies  before 
him,  it  would  be  strange  if  they  were  other- 
wise. The  sun  shines  level  through  the  Oc- 
tober oak -leaves  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
porch,  and  casts  a  russet  glow  on  the  young 
fellow's  swarthy  cheek. 

Like  most  Urmsons,  Garth  is  shorter  than 
the  average  of  men;  but,  to  make  up  for  it, 
he  is  chested  like  a  bison,  and  vigorous  and 
compact  all  over.  His  dress  this  morning 
differs  little  from  that  ordinarily  worn  by 
the  New  Hampshire  farmer.  His  dark, 
shaggy  hair  pokes  itself  through  the  torn 
crown  of  a  battered  straw  hat,  which  he  has 
clapped  on  the  capacious  back  of  his  head. 
In  his  left  hand  is  a  tuft  of  maple-leaves, 
the  splendid  scarlet  of  which  causes  his  red- 
flannel  shirt  to  appear  dingy  by  contrast. 
A  rough  sack-coat  (the  pockets  bulging  with 
crimson  and  yellow  apples),  and  corduroy 
trousers  tucked  into  cowhide  boots,  com- 
plete his  costume.  He  carries,  strapped  to 
his  back,  a  sort  of  shallow  knapsack ;  and 
in  his  right  hand  a  bundle  of  something 
neatly  tied  up  in  a  linen  case,  like  a  jointed 
fishing-rod.  From  outward  appearances, 
therefore,  he  might  be  going  angling. 

The  famous  green  door  of  Urmhurst  forms 


an  agreeable  background  to  this  sturdy 
figure.  It  is  a  massive  structure  of  six-inch 
oaken  timbers,  clamped  and  bolted  with 
iron,  and  scarred  by  many  an  ineffectual 

|  dint  of  tomahawk  and  bullet  in  Indian  fights 
of  yore.  On  the  upper  part  of  the  frame- 
work may  still  be  deciphered  the  date  and 
initials,  "K  U.,  1648,"  deeply  cut  in  old- 
fashioned  characters.  This  redoubtable 
door,  besides  enjoying  its  present  green  old 
age,  passed  a  verdant  youth  and  prime  like- 
wise. It  got  its  latest  coat  of  emerald  so 
long  ago  as  the  War  of  1812 ;  but  the  forty 
years  or  so  which  have  elapsed  since  then 
have  so  mellowed  and  enriched  the  original 
tint  that,  at  a  few  paces'  distance,  we  might 
fancy  the  hard  surface  overgrown  with  a 
thick  coating  of  soft  moss,  like  that  which 
cushions  tombstones  in  the  damp  church- 

|  yards  of  Old  England. 

Though  the  sun  is  but  half  an  hour  oat 
of  the  Atlantic,  Garth  has  already  made  the 
rounds  of  the  farm.  His  bedroom  being  on 
the  ground-floor,  he  had  only  to  lift  the 
sash  and  swing  himself  out  ankle-deep  in 
the  thick  grass  which  grows  just  beneath 
the  eaves.  He  went  first  to  the  barn, 
pushed  up  the  long  wooden  latch,  and  en- 
tered. The  interior  was  dark,  but  sweet 
and  comfortable  with  the  breath  of  cows 
and  hay.  The  farm  animals,  one  and  all, 
greeted  him  with  hearty  brute  courtesy, 
which  he  returned  with  a  tender  human  in- 
dulgence, being  on  the  kindest  terms  with 
them  all.  It  is  wholesome  for  a  man  whose 
demeanor  toward  the  world  is  reserved  to 
unmask  himself  to  these  jolly,  unceremoni- 
ous, soft-hearted  creatures,  whose  regard, 


GARTH. 


because  it  cannot  help  being  sincere,  is  the 
most  cordial  flattery.  Garth  might  well 
prize  his  horses  and  oxen,  his  cows  and  his 
hens;  for  their  use  was  not  to  be  measured 
by  eggs,  milk,  or  draft.  Men  are  caskets 
compact  of  a  score  of  metals,  in  which  the 
cunning  workmanship  disguises  the  ma- 
terial ;  animals  are  the  virgin  ore,  frank 
and  simple,  and  to  be  loved  or  loathed  only 
for  their  intrinsic  qualities.  But  men  would 
be  mere  outlines  without  them — fine  bits  of 
draughtmanship,  devoid  of  color  or  sub- 
stance. The  material  value  of  beasts  and 
birds  can  at  most  be  but  symbolic  of  their 
actual  use — or  such  was  Garth's  opinion. 
It  was  pleasant  to  behold  what  a  fund  of 
innocent  playfulness  was  developed  between 
the  two  parties :  the  young  man  had  his 
private  joke  with  each  four-footed  or  feath- 
ered compatriot,  and  many  was  the  humor- 
ous smile  or  sympathetic  guffaw  that  they 
enjoyed  together. 

The  morning  compliments  being  over, 
Garth  opened  an  eastern  shutter,  and  let  a 
stream  of  morning  fall  aslant  the  manger. 
The  picturesque  effect  seemed  to  strike  him, 
and  he  stood  observing  it  for  several  mo- 
ments. Presently,  he  bethought  himself  of 
the  crimson  horse-blanket  which  lay  folded 
up  under  the  seat  of  the  old  sleigh ;  he 
fetched  it  out  and  hung  it  over  the  lower 
rounds  of  the  ladder  which  leaned  against 
the  hay-bin,  half  in  and  half  out  of  shadow. 
Further  consideration  led  him  to  stir  up  a 
little  more  dust  to  spin  in  the  sharp-drawn 
light-beam.  He  was  now  the  possessor  of 
such  a  Eembrandt  as  might  have  been 
dreamed  of,  but  was  never  painted — gloomy, 
rich,  luminous.  A  human  countenance  would, 
perhaps,  have  been  an  addition;  but,  after 
all,  what  could  be  finer  than  the  dark  head 
of  that  bull,  with  his  white  horns  illuminat- 
ed from  the  window,  and  the  hairy  edges  of 
his  ears  softened  by  the  light  ?  The  human 
being  might  be  left  to  the  imagination,  and 
improve  thereby ;  but  the  bull  could  be 
omitted  on  no  pretense  whatever.  The  pict- 
ure being  arranged  to  his  satisfaction,  Garth 
studied  it  with  a  pithy,  efficient  musing, 
which  never  seemed  to  wander  vaguely  from 
the  point,  but  to  be  determined  by  a  con- 
stant and  conscious  purpose.  This  purpose, 


whatever  it  might  be,  could  have  had  very 
little  to  do  with  practical  farming ;  and,  were 
it  not  that  young  Mr.  Urmson  owns  a  vis- 
age singularly  deficient  in  aimlessness,  he 
would  undoubtedly  have  been  open  to  the 
suspicion  of  wasting  his  time. 

When  he  had  done  studying  the  Rem- 
brandt, Garth  lingered  not  purposelessly 
about ;  though  he  seemed  to  be  never  out 
of  leisure,  yet  did  his  times  and  seasons  fit 
snugly  into  one  another,  without  either  gaps 
or  crowdings.  He  passed  from  the  barn 
westward  to  the  vegetable-garden.  The  In- 
dian-corn had  been  harvested,  but  the  stalks, 
bound  together  in  eccentric  pyramids,  stood 
in  dry,  rustling  rows  along  the  dusty  field. 
Adjoining  this  was  the  potato-district,  many 
of  its  hills  already  despoiled  of  their  ill-com- 
plexioned  treasures,  and  the  greenery  of  the 
rest  withered  and  drooping.  Next  came 
the  pumpkin  and  squash  plantation,  and  here 
again  the  farmer  made  thoughtful  pause. 
The  yellow  squashes,  with  their  long,  twisted 
necks  seemed  to  be  alive  and  striving,  in  a 
ridiculous  panic  of  would-be  modesty,  to 
hide  their  glaring  nakedness  beneath  their 
shriveled  leaves.  Meanwhile  the  mighty 
pumpkins  reposed  serene  and  complete,  with 
a  broad,  golden  smile  of  full  content,  each 
one  swelling  his  yellow  sides  at  the  sun,  and 
looking  at  least  as  big  and  solid  as  that  lumi- 
nary. Garth  put  himself  to  some  trouble  to 
select  the  goldenest  and  snakiest  of  the 
squashes — as  though  the  curves  and  color  of 
the  great  vegetable  were  of  more  importance 
to  him  than  its  succulence — and,  carrying  it 
back  to  the  house,  conveyed  it  heedfully 
through  the  pantry -window.  Then  he  be- 
thought himself  of  the  orchard,  and  proceed- 
ed thither  forthwith,  whistling  as  he  went. 

In  its  prime,  a  few  generations  ago,  this 
had  been  accounted  the  finest  orchard  in 
New  Hampshire — no  small  renown  in  that 
American  garden  of  the  Hesperides.  Most 
delectable  fruit,  in  eight  or  nine  varieties, 
could  still  be  eaten  there ;  and  of  late  years 
an  attempt  had  been  made,  by  dint  of  prun- 
ing, grafting,  and  setting  out,  to  bring  back 
again  the  ancient  repute.  The  present  sea- 
son's crop  was  a  fine  one ;  and  Garth,  stroll- 
ing about  beneath  the  trees,  his  hands  thrust 
|  in  his  sacque-pockets  and  his  hat  on  the 


THE  MAN. 


15 


back  of  bis  head,  rejoiced  in  the  tall  scarlet 
and  yellow  heaps  which  were  gathered  to- 
gether beneath  the  low  branches.  Fascinat- 
ing, likewise,  were  the  grotesque  contortions 
of  the  trees  themselves.  Apple-bearing,  one 
would  suppose,  must  be  the  painfulest  of  all 
vegetable  processes.  Some  of  the  old  limbs 
were  the  incarnation  of  twisted  agony  ;  and 
there  were  few  trees  but  had  eaten  their  an- 
cient hearts  out  in  voiceless  torment,  and 
now  harbored  blue-jays  and  woodpeckers 
in  their  hollow  bosoms.  Nevertheless,  the 
sweetest  fruit  often  grew  on  the  ungainliest 
boughs  ;  and,  in  spring,  Garth  had  not  failed 
to  admire  how  well  beauty  and  fragrance 
and  freshness  assimilated  with  old  age,  de- 
formity, and  decay. 

Having  stuffed  his  pockets  with  lusty 
crimson  baldwins  and  firm-fleshed  russets, 
he  turned  homeward.  An  elderly  crow, 
which  had  been  contemplating  the  sunrise 
from  the  top  of  a  lofty  hemlock,  accosted 
him  with  a  single  taunting,  "  Caw !  "  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  I  would  much  rather  be  what  I 
am  than  what  you  are  !  "  Garth  picked  up 
a  worm-eaten  pippin,  and  flung  it  at  the 
contemptuous  fowl  with  so  true  an  aim  that, 
had  not  the  latter  been  wary,  there  might 
have  been  a  catastrophe.  But  it  was  not 
unacquainted  with  the  red-shirted  man  and 
his  ways,  and,  entering  at  once  into  the  spirit 
of  the  thing,  it  pretended  to  be  seriously 
alarmed,  and  pitched  flapping  from  its  perch 
with  a  volley  of  hoarse  objurgations.  The 
cry  was  straightway  taken  up  by  the  whole 
indigenous  community  of  crows,  and  in  an- 
other moment  thirty  or  forty  of  these  sable 
humorists  were  wheeling  their  black  bodies 
aloft  and  clamoring  their  harshest  ostensi- 
bly in  vast  consternation,  but  really  for  their 
own  and  Garth's  amusement. 

A  little  on  the  hither  verge  of  the  pine- 
forest  grew  a  large  sugar-maple,  its  autumnal 
foliage  showing  against  that  gloomy  back- 
ground like  a  bonfire.  Halting  here  in  his 
pursuit  of  the  crows,  our  transcendental 
farmer  gathered  himself  a  great  bunch  of 
flaming  leaves.  With  them  he  returned  to 
the  house ;  and,  finding  that  neither  his  fa- 
ther nor  old  Nikomis,  the  cook,  was  yet  stir- 
ring, he  clambered  in  by  the  window  as 
quietly  as  he  had  come  out.  Ten  minutes 


afterward  he  reissued  through  the  front- 
door, and  paused  a  moment  within  the  porch, 
where  we  first  caught  sight  of  him.  Anon 
he  stepped  briskly  forth  from  shadow  to  sun- 
shine, casting  aside  his  preoccupation,  and 
I  appearing  so  alert  that  it  would  have  been 
;  difficult  to  believe  his  proper  mood  a  con- 
templative one.  Action  seemed  the  truer 
sphere  for  him,  so  soon  as  he  became  ac- 
tive. 

He  followed  the  grass-bordered  path  that 
clung  to  the  eastward  declivity,  enjoying 
the  morning  clouds,  while  his  shadow  undu- 
lated long  and  slim  behind  him.  Arriving 
presently  at  the  little  graveyard,  squared 
within  its  compact  stone  fence,  he  went  in 
and  paused  beside  the  latest  grave,  now  sev- 
eral years  old.  Here  lay  buried  the  mor- 
tality of  Martha  TJrmson,  Garth's  mother, 
and  daughter  of  old  Parson  Graeme,  who 
was  still  above-ground  after  near  a  century 
of  earthly  existence.  The  little  flower-bed 
which  crowned  the  grave  had  ceased  to 
bloom,  and  Garth  plucked  away  the  withered 
leaves  and  stalks,  and  emblazoned  the  brown 
strip  of  earth  with  his  splendid  maple-leaves. 
No  breeze  was  astir  as  yet,  and  they  lay  mo- 
tionless there,  though  seemingly  aglow  with 
life.  But  to  the  young  man's  mind  the  life 
of  autumn  was  of  a  kind  to  harmonize  well 
with  tombstones.  There  was  more  heart- 
break in  her  deep-toned  sunshine  than  in 
the  gloom  of  conventional  mourning,  and 
her  gayest  painting  could  but  make  the  seer 
thoughtful  and  often  sad.  For  her  pomps 
presaged  decay ;  and  the  strand  of  pathos  was 
subtilely  inwoven  with  hers  2s  with  all  mor- 
tal beauty. 

But,  however  alive  to  these  perceptions, 
Garth  would  have  been  guilty  of  an  affecta- 
tion alien  to  his  temperament,  could  he  have 
faced  the  rich  phantasmagoria  of  the  valley 
otherwise  than  delightedly.  Surely,  thought 
he,  it  looked  its  best  to-day.  The  thin- 
spread  mists  were  dissolving  like  a  happy 
dream,  and  mellow  ranges  of  red  and  yellow 
awakened  to  vividness  near  at  hand,  and 
lapsed  in  violet  cadences  far  away.  Au- 
tumn was  the  holiday — the  Sunday  of  the 
year.  She  reclined  at  ease,  ripe,  voluptuous, 
sweet-breathed  with  new-mown  hay,  robed 
in  crimson  and  crowned  with  gold.  She 


16 


GARTH. 


was  more  tender,  than  the  working  seasons — 
•with  a  pensive  tenderness  infinitely  winning. 
Cheerful  in  her  embrace  could  no  one  be; 
but  she  wooed  her  love  far  below  the  trifling 
surface-ripple  of  emotion,  and  taught  him 
the  neglected  wisdom  of  repose. 

Garth  had  so  loving  an  eye  for  color,  and 
had  so  often  brooded  over  the  autumnal  as- 
pects of  his  native  woods,  that  it  would  be 
wronging  him  to  suppress  all  allusion  to  such 
matters.  And  he  was  a  man  endowed  with 
deep  susceptibilities,  which  yet  were  seldom 
able  to  find  utterance  in  speech.  If  he  in- 
dulged in  soliloquies,  therefore,  they  were 
of  a  kind  not  immediately  quotable  on  a 
printed  page.  But  this  solitary  walk  of  his 
(which  should  be  taken  as.  a  type  of  many 
similar  walks,  and  indeed  of  one  complete 
phase  of  his  life  at  this  epoch)  possessed  a 
sort  of  significance  which  it  would  not  do 
entirely  to  neglect. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

AX   OCTOBER   VIOLET. 

AFTER  leaving  the  graveyard,  the  path 
continued  its  unobtrusive  journey  down  the 
slope,  Garth  striding  downward  with  it,  j 
eating  a  cool  apple  as  he  went,  and  rejoicing 
in  the  dew  which  abundantly  glossed  his 
cowhide  boots.  In  a  few  minutes  he  had 
entered  the  forest  which  infringed  upon  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  long  pasture.  The  | 
trees  grew  thickly,  but  shadow  there  was 
none.  A  golden  glow  lingered  in  the  densest 
coverts,  for  the  density  was  itself  an  illu- 
mination. The  black  trunks  and  branches 
appeared  overstrong  for  their  ethereal  sun- 
shiny burdens.  The  greenness  which  had 
not  yet  forsaken  the  grass  in  sheltered  situ- 
ations— the  greenness  which  summer  cheap- 
ens— now  seemed  rare  and  strange,  the  super- 
fluity of  pomp  giving  a  new  worth  to  sim- 
plicity. 

It  is  well,  after  all,  that  the  autumn 
glories  of  New  England  should  be  so  transi- 
tory.    These  sunset  tints  of  foliage  exalt  the 
beholder's  spirit  to  a  pitch  which  could  not  ! 
long  be  sustained.     Green  is  the  color  that  j 


lies  nearest  to  human  sympathies,  and  no 
diviner  one  could  be  suffered  permanently 
to  usurp  its  place  in  Nature.  Indeed,  it  is 
remarkable  that  Yankees  accept  the  magic 
transformations  of  their  October  so  philoso- 
phically as  they  do — that  they  are  not  startled 
or  even  incredulous,  as  they  doubtless  would 
be  were  the  matter  one  of  hearsay.  But 
throughout  this  apparently  reckless  splendor 
there  runs  ever  a  saving  element  of  econ- 
omy; the  reds  and  yellows  are  all  variations 
of  one  theme,  and  differ  among  themselves 
not  more  than  do  the  greens  of  summer. 
There  is  no  gaudiness ;  and  thus  no  one  re- 
members to  be  astonished  at  the  display  un- 
til it  is  over. 

The  footpath,  beyond  the  pasture  limits, 
merged  into  a  forest  lane :  in  the  centre  a 
narrow  channel,  worn  by  horses'  feet,  flanked 
on  both  sides  by  deep  wheel-ruts,  while  thin 
ridges  of  green  turf  intervened.  From  its 
work-a-day,  business-like  aspect,  this  lane 
might  have  been  supposed,  by  the  unwary, 
to  be  the  introduction  to  some  country  road, 
and,  becoming  more  and  more  public-spirited 
and  practical  as  it  proceeded,  finally  to  at- 
tain the  dignity  and  social  position  of  a  turn- 
pike or  highway.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  how- 
ever, it  had  no  more  end  than  beginning, 
and  could  properly  be  said  to  exist  only  as 
to  its  centre.  New  England  woods  are  full 
of  such  deceptive  lanes,  beginning  without 
apparent  reason,  and  fading  out  of  sight  just 
when  the  lost  traveler  is  expecting  to  arrive 
at  something.  They  are,  in  truth,  created 
and  used  by  the  wood-cutters,  whose  carts 
and  sledges  have  worn  these  ruts;  and  since 
the  ends  of  wood-cutters  differ  from  those  of 
other  men,  though  their  means  are  the  same, 
we  must  not  wonder  at  their  leading  us  to 
a  pine  -  stump  when  we  had  made  up  our 
mouths  for  a  village. 

As  for  Garth,  he  numbered  wood-cutting 
among  his  own  accomplishments,  and  was 
rather  pleased  than  disconcerted  when  the 
path  ran  up  a  tree  and  the  forest  grew  track- 
less before  him.  Had  he  lived  in  colonial 
times  he  would  have  plunged  into  the  prime- 
val wilderness  with  all  the  boldness  and  fer- 
vor of  the  original  Captain  Neil ;  not,  like 
him,  from  a  morbid  distaste  for  society,  but 
with  masculine  zest  for  the  charms  of  virgin 


AN   OCTOBER   VIOLET. 


17 


Nature — savage  and  bard  to  tame.  His  spir- 
its dilated  as  he  left  civilized  boundaries  be- 
hind him,  until  at  length  even  his  dilapidated 
hat  grew  irksome,  and  he  pulled  it  off,  and 
threw  back  the  broad  collar  of  his  shirt. 
Tho  woods  were  almost  utterly  silent ;  cold 
nights  had  chilled  the  loquacity  of  insects, 
and  the  birds  seemed  to  have  sung  all  their 
songs  for  that  year,  and  to  be  meditating 
what  next.  Now  and  then  a  chattering 
squirrel  darted  from  apparent  non-existence 
into  intensest  life,  and  after  a  noisy  minute 
departed  into  nothingness  once  more.  Far 
oft'  somewhere  sounded  the  drumming  of  a 
partridge,  or  close  at  hand  one  suddenly 
whizzed  from  its  covert.  But  the  Midas's  j 
touch  which  had  transmuted  the  trees  to 
gold  seemed  to  have  stricken  existence  al- 
most dumb. 

Presently,  however,  Garth  began  to 
whistle,  mellowly  as  an  Arcadian  flute- 
player.  The  sound  melted  sweetly  into  the 
forest  distances,  lik'e  a  bird-note ;  and  he 
pursued  it  along  the  glowing  vistas  with  a 
grave  jocundity  of  step  and  countenance. 
The  land  tended  by  long  gradients  down- 
ward, and  occasionally  his  foot  sank  in 
swampy  ground ;  the  vegetation  became  more 
untrammeled,  and  carmine  sumach-leaves 
burned  here  and  there  in  the  jungle.  Anon 
approached  the  silver  gurgle  of  a  brook, 
new-born  from  some  hidden  source,  bab- 
bling its  transparent  secrets  beside  the  path- 
way, and  continuing  to  gossip  even  when  its 
wayward  course  had  taken  it  temporarily 
out  of  hearing.  Great  painted  toadstools, 
generated  overnight  from  the  fruitful  union 
of  vegetable  decay  and  dampness,  clustered 
in  fantastic  groups  beneath  the  yellow 
shade  ;  and  not  a  few  dandelions  and  asters 
foolhardily  tempted  the  frost.  All  these 
things  Garth  felt  by  a  kind  of  sympathy 
rather  than  saw  in  detail ;  he  was  not  of  the 
quick-eyed  breed  of  men ;  his  glance  was 
leisurely,  but  comprehensive  and  penetrat- 
ing. 

This  faculty  of  observation,  at  once  en- 
joying and  effortless,  marked  him  as  one 
who  was  not  only  accustomed  to  meet  Na- 
ture in  private  and  alone,  but  content  to  let 
her  monopolize  him  during  the  interview. 
Yet  I  would  not  have  you  infer  that  a  young 
2 


man  of  his  aspect,  who  must  have  known 
the  vicissitudes  of  at  least  five-and-twenty 
years,  had  missed  all  acquaintance  with  that 
finer  solitude  which  is  attainable  only 
through  rare  human  companionship.  There 
was  nothing  of  the  ascetic  in  Garth's  face 
or  figure  that  he  should  be  deemed  insen- 
sible to  the  love  of  woman.  And  though 
there  might  be  neither  nymphs  noV  hama- 
dryads in  the  New  Hampshire  woods,  and 
though  the  young  farmer's  dress  and  habits 
might  seem  to  raise  a  barrier  between  him 
and  fashionable  society,  yet  something  there 
was  in  his  look  and  bearing  that  indicated  a 
wider  culture  than  that  of  the  farm  and 
forest. 

Indeed,  the  more  narrowly  you  observed 
him,  the  greater  would  have  been  your 
doubt  whether  the  agricultural  element  was 
really  vital  in  him  at  all.  His  hands  were 
certainly  not  those  of  a  farmer  ;  their  form 
was  at  once  powerful  and  elegant,  and  the 
texture  of  the  skin  was  fine  and  soft.  And 
where  did  he  acquire  that  firm  carriage  of 
the  shoulders  and  that  easy  precision  of 
tread  ?  Not  surely  from  the  plough  and  the 
scythe.  And  'though  his  features  seemed 
at  the  first  glance  rugged  and  almost  harsh, 
they  were  in  fact  moulded  -with  singular 
force  and  meaning,  every  part  responded 
sensitively  to  his  thought.  In  spite,  there- 
fore, of  his  rough  garb,  early  hours,  and  fa- 
miliarity with  barn-yard  stock,  it  would 
have  been  rash  to  write  him  down  a  country 
bumpkin.  There  was  an  indescribable  flavor 
of  distinction  about  him,  such  as  is  only 
given  by  travel,  thought,  and  conversation 
with  the  world.  Admitting  this,  his  quiet 
assumption  (or  resumption)  of  rusticity  ar- 
gued a  freshness  and  independence  of  nature 
unusual  in  traveled  youth  nowadays. 

But  what  was  his  present  destination? 
for  a  man,  especially  a  young  gentleman  of 
culture,  does  not  plunge  into  pathless  forests 
before  breakfast  for  nothing.  Would  it  be 
allowable,  in  the  absence  of  any  trustworthy 
information  on  the  subject,  to  indulge  in  a 
little  fanciful  conjecture?  Let  us  suppose, 
then,  that,  while  Garth  was  traveling  in  En- 
rope,  he  met  a  noble  and  lovely  lady,  who, 
like  himself,  was  a  stranger  there.  In  the 
rich  heart  of  the  Old  World  they  met,  and 


18 


GARTH. 


neither  knew  the  other,  nor  was  it  granted 
them  ever  to  speak  together,  or  to  exchange 
a  pressure  of  the  hand ;  but  once,  in  a 
strange  room  full  of  antique  jewels  and  pre- 
cious works  of  art,  their  glances  had  met  in 
a  crystal  mirror,  and  had  read  in  one  an- 
other a  mutual  revelation.  For  one  deep 
moment  they  gazed,  and  knew  they  loved; 
then  time  and  space  rolled  between  and 
parted  them.  But  for  years  thereafter,  as 
they  moved  along  their  separate  paths,  visions 
would  rise  before  them  of  that  unforgotten 
moment,  until  at  length,  by  much  dreaming 
over  it,  the  event  itself  began  to  take  on  the 
semblance  of  a  dream ;  and  Garth,  returning 
home,  pledged  himself  to  another  woman ; 
and  the  lady  promised,  against  her  better 
instincts,  to  become  the  wife  of  another 
man.  Shall  our  romance  end  here,  or  shall 
that  picturesque  providence,  which  watches 
over  lovers  only,  bring  them  once  more  to- 
gether, ere  the  last  irrevocable  steps  that  fix 
their  destinies  be  taken?  Yes,  let  them 
meet,  since  all  is  imagination !  And,  by  way 
of  accounting  for  Garth's  early  presence  in 
these  woodland  solitudes,  be  this  the  morn- 
ing of  the  meeting,  and  the  place,  the 
shores  of  the  little  lake  whither  his  steps 
now  tend.  Of  course  the  encounter  must 
be  accidental  on  both  sides — a  genuine  prov- 
idential interference.  AVe  need  not  indulge 
our  fancy  further.  If,  being  met,  they  do 
not  succeed  in  freeing  themselves  from  their 
entanglements,  and  living  together  h.nppily 
ever  afterward,  they  are  not  the  romantic 
lovers  we  take  them  to  be. 

Truly,  for  so  extravagant  a  flight  of  im- 
agination as  this,  the  splendid  witchery  of 
the  autumnal  trees  is  hardly  valid  excuse. 
And  yet  there  was  about  Garth  that  which 
might  lay  a  strong  grasp  on  a  woman's 
heart,  though  little  were  said  on  either  side. 
Perhaps  he  inherited  something  of  that 
peculiar  power  which  tradition  ascribed  to 
his  forefathers,  and  on  the  other  hand  there 
was  a  glow  in  his  eyes  which  indicated  ar- 
dent receptivity  and  keen  appreciation,  qual- 
ities which  render  shallow  people  ivhat  is 
called  "  susceptible."  We  might  imagine 
Garth  beguiled  by  a  beautiful  face  into  pos- 
tulating a  beautiful  soul  to  it ;  but  sooner  or 
later  he  would  know  whether  he  were  mis- 


taken, and  then  the  issue  might  be  tragical. 
Intensity  of  belief  has  always  a  germ  of 
pathos  in  it;  and,  if  its  trust  be  betrayed, 
the  flower  of  tragedy  is  at  once  full  blown. 

But,  to  prolong  these  hap-hazard  specula- 
tions regarding  a  man  who  has  thus  far 
given  us  no  practical  evidence  of  a  specially 
wayward  or  portentous  disposition,  would 
really  be  doing  him  injustice.  It  is  probably 
his  very  undemonstrative-ness  that  gives  such 
loose  rein  to  our  conjecture.  The  world  is 
apt  to  put  a  tongue  of  its  own  into  the  heads 
of  those  who  do  not  speak  for  themselves. 
To  an  indifferent  eye  Garth  would  appear 
simply  as  a  young  countryman  who  had 
risen  betimes  in  order  to  enjoy  a  quiet  angle 
!  for  perch  and  pickerel  in  the  pond.  It  was 
|  a  likely  enough  sheet  of  water  for  such 
j  sport,  and,  as  its  gleam  reached  him  through 
the  belt  of  dark  pines  that  bordered  its 
northern  shore,  Garth  stopped  whistling  and 
hastened  his  step  a  bit,  as  though  anxious  to 
be  at  work. 

On  the  hither  verge  of  the  pine-belt  was 
planted  a  lichen-covered  rock,  girdled  with 
a  crimson  growth  of  huckleberry-bushes. 
Beneath  the  bushes,  amid  a  cluster  of  round 
green  leaves,  lurked  a  meditative  little 
flower — retired  enough,  one  would  think, 
to  elude  all  ordinary  eyesight.  Neverthe- 
less, Garth  saw  it  as  he  was  passing  by,  and, 
stopping,  threw  himself  at  full  length  on  the 
ground  to  examine  it  at  his  leisure.  It  was 
a  violet — a  rarity  in  that  month,  and  the 
sweeter  for  its  strangeness.  Garth  lifted 
up  its  dewy  downcast  little  visage  with  the 
tip  of  his  forefinger,  and  looked — not  botan- 
ically  but  lovingly — into  its  tiny  golden  eye. 
Perhaps  from  conscientious  scruples,  he  did 
not  pluck  the  flower,  but  was  content  to  gain 
only  the  better  part  of  it.  By-and-by  he 
gently  withdrew  his  finger,  rose  to  his  feet, 
and  walked  on.  No  violet  could  have  de- 
sired a  more  considerate  admirer. 

But,  before  he  had  gone  far,  this  chival- 
ric  lover  turned  abruptly  back  and  deliber- 
ately plucked  the  poor  violet  after  all.  to- 
gether with  one  of  its  green  leaves.  W;is 
the  act  merely  wanton?  or  was  there  some- 
thing so  much  more  worshipful  in  his  eyes 
than  an  October  violet  as  to  justify  him  in 
making  a  sacrificial  offering  of  the  flower? 


THE   CHILD. 


19 


It  is  a  pregnant  question,  but  we  must  be 
content  to  let  time  give  it  answer.  Garth 
carefully  disposed  the  offering,  if  such  it  was 
to  be,  in  his  hat  band,  and  then,  continuing 
on  through  the  pines,  lie  shortly  brought  his 
three-mile  walk  to  an  end  on  the  sandy 
beach  of  a  little  cove  which  commanded  an 
outlook  over  the  greater  part  of  the  lake. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  southward,  in 
the  mouth  of  the  bay,  rose  a  small  island 
densely  tufted  with  red  and  yellow  foliage. 
Far  beyond,  between  the  island  and  the 
western  promontory  of  the  shore,  towered 
the  misty  shape  of  Wabeno,  glowing  in  the 
sunlight  like  a  dim  heap  of  jewels.  The 
water  of  the  lake  was  perfectly  still  and  pel- 
lucid, and  reflected  each  painted  leaf  of  the 
myriad  trees  that  pressed  to  the  margin,  as 
if  to  behold  their  own  magnificence  in  the 
clear  mirror.  And  the  reflection  was  better 
even  than  the  reality — it  had  a  charm  like 
that  belonging  to  an  idealized  remembrance. 
The  sky,  pale  and  cool  at  this  hour,  set  off 
the  sumptuous  coloring  of  the  earth.  The 
sun  was  not  yet  too  high  to  throw  tall 
shadows  of  the  eastern  trees  across  the  quiet 
mystery  of  the  liquid  surface.  The  charm 
of  the  scene  was  so  complete  as  to  warrant 
the  belief  that  it  must  have  been  less  beau- 
tiful a  moment  ago  and  would  begin  to  de- 
teriorate a  moment  hence.  There  needed 
only  a  poet  or  a  painter,  cunning  of  hand 
and  loving  of  heart,  to  collect  these  points 
of  loveliness  and  recast  them  in  the  sym- 
metrical mould  of  some  noble  and  profound 
idea. 

Judging  by  appearances,  Garth  has  come 
here  with  the  intention  of  remaining  some 
hours,  and,  perhaps,  during  this  interval  of 
enforced  leisure,  we  cannot  do  better  than 
angle  in  the  waters  of  the  past  for  what- 
ever stray  facts  concerning  him  and  his  may 
chance  within  our  reach. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    CHILD. 

CAPTAIN  BRIAN  URMSOX,  the  old  war- 
rior of  the  Revolution,  had  nearly  com- 
pleted his  seventieth  year  when  Garth  be- 


gan the  world.  His  little  daughter  Eve  had 
then  been  lost  some  ten  or  twelve  years, 
during  which  time  the  captain  had  led  a 
sombre  and  lonely  life ;  lonely — despite  the 
fact  that  Golightley,  the  son  of  his  second 
marriage,  was  living  with  him.  The  grim 
soldier  had  never  understood  this  young 
man's  aesthetic  aspirations,  nor  sympathized 
with  them  ;  and  he,  moreover,  had  what  he 
chose  to  consider  reasons  for  positively  dis- 
liking the  young  man  himself.  As  for  his 
favorite,  Cuthbert,  the  only  child  of  his  first 
love,  he  had  gone  abroad  the  year  of  Eve's 
disappearance,  and  he  staid  away  an  un- 
conscionably long  while. 

However,  he  came  back  at  last,  safe  and 
sound,  and  then  the  captain's  gloom  began 
to  lighten.  The  sky  was  further  cleared  by 
Golightley's  departure,  which  took  place  a 
month  or  two  later ;  but  the  crowning  grati- 
fication was  Cuthbert's  marriage  with  Par- 
son Graeme's  daughter.  And  when,  in  due 
time,  sweet  young  Mrs.  Urmson  began  to 
grow  indolent  and  languid,  and  her  husband 
consulted  her  lightest  wish  with  anxious 
solicitude ;  and  when,  finally,  a  strange  fe- 
male made  her  appearance  in  the  house, 
with  noiseless  step  and  despotic  authority ; 
then  did  Captain  Brian  become  as  cheerful 
and  good-humored  an  old  gentleman  as  any 
in  the  county.  He  would  sit  for  hours  be- 
neath the  porch  in  his  high-backed  arm- 
chair, his  stern  visage  softened  with  flitting 
smiles,  and  his  wrinkled  eyes  half  closed  in 
pleasant  reverie.  Anon  he  would  arouse 
himself  and  beckon  Cuthbert  and  the  strango 
female  mysteriously  aside,  and  question  them 
in  hoarse  whispers; 

"  How  soon  may  we  expect — eh,  ma'am  ? 
I'll  bet  ten  to  one  it'll  be  a  girl,  Cuthbert ! 
— Ay,  by  God,  a  little  girl — like  Eve,  boy — 
like  my  little  Eve,  eh  ?  "  This  with  a  half- 
appealing  intonation,  accompanied  by  a  gruff, 
nervous  little  laugh  that  sometimes  brought 
tears  to  Cuthbert's  kind  gray  eyes. 

Doubtless  these  last  weeks  were  the  hap- 
piest of  Captain  Brian's  life,  which  had  been 
a  violent  and  irregular  one,  and  not  alto- 
gether above  suspicions  of  something  worse 
than  irregularity.  Happily,  too,  he  died  be- 
fore knowing  that  his  anticipations  of  a 
granddaughter  were  not  destined  to  fulfill- 


20 


ment.  For  one  night,  after  a  long  talk  with 
Cuthbert,  in  the  course  of  which  the  old 
man  had  opened  his  heart  on  many  subjects 
more  than  he  had  ever  done  before,  and  had 
spoken  at  some  length  regarding  his  two 
marriages,  and  about  the  lost  Eve ;  after 
this,  and  after  bidding  his  son  an  affection- 
ate good-night,  he  shut  his  door,  and  was 
found  the  next  day  on  the  floor,  by  the  bed- 
side, in  a  kneeling  position,  dead.  So  far  as 
was  known,  it  had  never  been  his  custom  to 
pray,  but  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  death  came 
up  with  him  in  a  first  effort  heavenward, 
being  mercifully  desirous  not  to  let  so  rare 
an  opportunity  pass  unimproved. 

In  the  same  hour  that  the  dead  body  was 
discovered,  Garth  first  saw  the  light.  The 
nurse  looked  at  him,  prepared,  as  usual,  to 
pronounce  him  the  image  either  of  his  father 
or  of  his  mother,  as  it  might  happen ;  but 
the  formula  stumbled  on  her  lips,  and,  after 
a  pause,  she  declared  in  a  tone  weighty  with 
conviction : 

"  Ef  the  child  ain't  the  living  image  of 
his  dead  grandpa !  " 

This  verdict  was  subsequently  confirmed 
by  that  of  other  persons  esteemed  wise  in 
such  matters,  but  most  of  all  by  Garth  him- 
self; who,  as  he  advanced  from  infant  jelly- 
dom  to  the  solid  flesh  of  babyhood,  showed 
ever  more  and  more  unmistakably  the  min- 
iature form  and  features  of  the  deceased 
warrior. 

Parson  Graeme,  the  gigantic  minister  and 
patriarch  of  the  parish,  was  a  frequent  caller 
at  Urmhurst,  where  he  sat  in  council  with 
the  young  father  and  mother,  giving  them 
the  benefit  of  his  vast  experience  and  enor- 
mous wisdom  on  all  subjects,  but  generally 
with  special  reference  to  the  character  and 
education  of  little  Garth.  Young  fathers 
and  mothers  do  not  as  a  rule  take  this  kind 
of  interference  in  very  good  part ;  but,  if  any 
counselor  could  claim  justification  for  coun- 
seling, Parson  Graeme  was  surely  he.  Not 
only  was  he  the  descendant  of  the  Puritan 
divine  who  accompanied  Neil  Urmson  from 
England,  but  he  had  officiated  at  both  of 
Captain  Brian's  weddings,  as  well  as  at  his 
funeral.  Not  only  this,  but  he  was  Mrs. 
Urmson's  father,  and,  by  dint  of  marrying 
her  to  Cuthbert,  had  constituted  himself  the 


latter's  father-in-law ;  and  if  anything  more 
were  wanted,  he  had  performed  the  rite 
of  baptism  upon  that  most  important  of 
personages,  Garth  himself!  With  such  an 
array  of  credentials  as  this,  a  man  of  far  less 
personal  charm  than  the  venerable  parson 
possessed  might  have  obtained  a  hearing. 
But  the  best  of  it  was,  that  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Graeme  was  at  least  as  entertaining  as 
he  was  wise ;  and,  come  when  or  wherefore 
he  might,  he  was  sure  to  be,  not  only  toler- 
ated but  welcomed. 

"  Genuine  old  Urmson — no  mistake  about 
that !  "  the  old  gentleman  would  bellow  forth 
in  his  big  bass  voice,  after  a  chuckling  in- 
spection of  the  small,  red-faced  bundle  re- 
posing in  Mrs.  Urmson's  lap.  "  Not  a  bit 
like  you,  son-in-law !  I  recollect,  when  you 
were  born,  folks  said  the  Urmson  type  was 
dying  out — that  Captain  Brian  had  been  the 
last  of  them.  But  not  a  bit  of  it!  Your 
younger  brother,  Golightley,  some  folks 
thought,  was  going  to  be  one  of  'em;  well, 
he  had  the  cleft  in  the  chin,  to  be  sure,  but 
not  the  eye,  not  the  head,  and  not  a  bone  of 
the  figure !  Ay,  the  captain  should  have 
seen  this  little  chap  before  he  died ;  just  a 
few  hours  more  would  have  done  it — think 
of  that  now  !  But  the  Lord  knows  best,  of 
course  ;  and  maybe  the  old  man  would  have 
been  mad  because  the  lad  wasn't  a  girl ! 
Ay,  the  Lord  knows  best — no  mistake  about 
that!" 

"Do  you  think  Garth  so  very  much  like 
his  grandfather?  "  inquired  gentle  Mrs.  Urm- 
son. 

"  There  was  jealousy  in  that  question," 
said  Cuthbert,  smiling.  "  She  wants  him  to 
resemble  me,  with  my  sharp  nose  and  bald 
forehead  and  consumptive  tendency — don't 
you,  Cotton?"  (Her  name  was  Martha; 
but  her  husband,  in  recognition  of  her  skill 
and  diligence  with  darning  and  knitting 
needles,  and  also  out  of  compliment  to  the 
memory  of  the  distinguished  colonial  divine, 
had  dubbed  her  Cotton  Martha,  and  diminu- 
tively Cotton.) 

"  I  would  like  him  to  have  your  eyes,  at 
any  rate,"  returned  she. 

Cnthbert  had  the  pleasantest,  kindest 
gray  eyes  in  the  world,  and  his  other  feat- 
ures kept  them  well  in  countenance ;  for 


THE   CHILD. 


21 


his  slightly  aquiline  nose  was  beautifully 
shaped,  the  point  being  particularly  deli- 
cate ;  and  his  mouth  (although  there  was 
sometimes  a  touch  of  satire  in  its  fine  curves) 
was  in  sympathy  with  his  eyes. 

"  Like  him  ?  he's  the  image  of  him  !  " 
rumbled  in  the  ponderous  tones  of  the  gi- 
gantic pastor,  ignoring  this  minor  prattle  of 
the  young  people,  and  taking  up  the  origi- 
nal question ;  "  and  of  his  great-great-grand- 
father, and  of  his  great-great-grandfather's 
father  before  him — and  that's  Captain  Neil 
himself.  Why,  Mattie,  girl,  I  recollect  my 
father  (he  died  only  thirty  years  ago,  at  over 
a  hundred)  —  well,  I  recollect  his  telling 
Brian,  in  ray  hearing  (we  were  both  lads  at 
the  time),  often  and  often  he  told  us  that 
Brian's  grandfather,  Ralph,  was  as  like 
Brian  as  two  hymn-books.  My  father  knew 
Ralph  Urmson  well  in  his  younger  days,  a 
hundred  and  twenty  years  back ;  and  it  used 
to  be  said  at  that  time,  '  Ralph's  his  father's 
own  son  ! '  Well,  Ralph  was  a  sad  dog ;  he 
was  more  feared  than  Captain  Neil  had  been, 
and  liked  less.  He  had  but  one  friend, 
'twas  said,  and  him  he  killed  in  some  mad 
quarrel  or  other.  And,  for  that  matter,  the 
saying  is,  that  every  true  Urmson  will  kill 
the  man  he  loves  best." 

"  Father  !  "  exclaimed  Martha,  horror- 
stricken. 

"  Hand  me  down  the  old  pistol  from 
above  the  fireplace,  ray  dear,"  said  Cuth- 
bert,  in  a  tone  of  quiet  determination.  "  I 
will  shoot  both  your  father  and  Garth,  for 
fear  of  making  a  mistake  between  them." 

"Haw!  haw!  haw!  "laughed  the  sten- 
torian pastor.  "  No,  110,  son-in-law,  you're 
not  the  sort  of  Urmson  the  saying  applies 
to ;  but  as  for  your  boy  there,  I  wouldn't 
like  to  answer  for  him! — You  must  look 
sharp  after  him,  Mattie,  girl — ha,  ha,  ha! 
Well,  but  there's  something  in  it  after  all. 
There  was  Neil,  you  know,  to  begin  with ; 
then  Ralph  ;  and  after  Ralph — let's  see — 
well,  the  next  out-and-out  Urmson  after 
Ralph  was  Captain  Brian,  and  it  would  be 
hard  to  say  who  his  best  friend  was.  But 
there,  forgive  me,  boy !  No  one  loved  your 
father  better  than  I  did,  and  I'm  sure  he 
didn't  kill  me!" 

Cuthbert's  face  had  become  graver,  and 


he  presently  said :  "  I  have  heard  the  say- 
ing before ;  and,  Cotton,  it  was  with  that 
same  old  pistol  up  there  that  these  several 
tragedies  were  accomplished.  Captain  Neil 
brought  it  over  from  England,  and  my 
father  carried  it  through  the  Revolution. 
I  wonder  whether  it's  loaded  now  ?  " 

Sweet  Cotton  Martha  shuddered  and 
clasped  Master  Garth  impulsively  to  her 
bosom,  thereby  awakening  him.  from  the 
nap  which  he  had  been  enjoying  for  the 
past  half-hour.  In  his  philosophy,  to  be 
awake  was  to  be  hungry ;  and  he  began  to 
seek,  with  imperious  cries,  the  bounteous 
source  of  food  and  happiness.  That  at- 
tained, he  relapsed  into  the  enjoyment  of 
his  sensations ;  and  the  talk  went  on. 

"  Don't  you  fret  your  little  heart,  Mat- 
tie,"  said  the  Reverend  Mr.  Graeme,  noting 
the  disturbed  expression  which  still  dwelt 
on  his  daughter's  naturally  serene  face.  "  It 
was  but  a  jest,  my  lass.  If  the  babe  looked 
twice  the  Urmson  he  is,  the  Lord  has  given 
him  a  soul  of  his  own ;  and  a  good  mother, 
though  I  say  it !  " 

"  Cotton,  don't  suffer  your  just  anxiety 
to  be  cajoled  by  any  such  sophistry,"  Cuth- 
bert  interposed.  "  When  I  was  a  little  boy 
your  father  taught  me  my  lessons,  and  I  had 
a  good  opportunity  to  find  him  out.  Al- 
though not  a  bad  man,  socially  and  humanly 
speaking,  his  philosophy  is  defective.  In 
those  early  days  I  often  argued  with  him, 
and  exposed  his  fallacies ;  but  as  fast  as  I 
converted  him  at  one  end  he  would  relapse 
at  the  other.  I  suppose  there's  no  hope  of 
producing  an  impression  on  a  man  seven  feet 
high,  and  weighing  twenty  stone !  " 

"Haw!  haw!  haw!  and  what  has  that 
to  do  with  it,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  "  demanded 
the  venerable  stentor. 

"You  hear,  Cotton,  that  your  father 
doesn't  know  what  that  has  to  do  with  it. 
He  has  never  read  Dr.  Combe's  '  Phrenol- 
ogy,' but  pronounces  it  humbug  at  a  vent- 
ure. He  fancies  that  body  and  soul  havo 
no  necessary  and  intimate  connection,  but 
have  coma  together  in  an  entirely  accidental 
and  illogical  manner ;  in  short,  that  any 
soul  may  pop  into  any  body  it  happens  to 
fall  in  with,  in  the  same  way  that  the  body 
may  afterward  go  to  a  tailor's  shop  and 


GARTH. 


jump  into  a  ready-made  suit  of  clothes, 
which,  ten  to  one,  would  have  fitted  some- 
body else  better. 

"  Pooh !  a  great  way  you  have  of  putting 
an  argument !  "  growled  the  parson. 

"  He  thinks,"  continued  Cuthbert,  with 
a  mischievous  lifting  of  one  eyebrow,  "that 
spirit  and  matter,  having  through  some  ill 
luck  run  foul  of  each  other,  are  making  an 
awkward  job  of  their  enforced  companion- 
chip.  That  is  the  reason  why  he  sees  no 
connection  between  his  twenty  stone  and 
his  rejection  of  rational  arguments ;  and  that 
is  why  he  tells  you  that  the  fact  of  Garth's 
looking  like  his  ancestors  need  not  imply  his 
being  like  them." 

Martha,  who  had  been  watching  her 
baby's  face  with  all  a  mother's  rapt  enthu- 
ciasm,  until  she  had  forgotten  the  existence 
of  anything  else,  here  stooped  down  and 
kissed  it,  and  whispered :  "  O-o  mother's 
pet !  "  The  two  men  smiled  apart  to  them- 
selves, and  Cuthbert  continued  : 

"  For  my  part  I  rejoice  that  the  Urmson 
coil  has  lain  fallow  in  my  generation,  if  it 
therefore  produces  a  full-flavored  crop  in 
this.  I  not  only  think  that  Garth  resembles 
Brian  and  Neil,  but  I  hope  and  believe  that 
liis  leading  traits  of  character  resemble  theirs ; 
that  he  has  the  same  imperious  will,  the  same 
pugnacity  and  vehement  temper."  Cuthbert 
had  spoken  these  words  with  more  than  his 
usual  earnestness,  and  after  a  pause  he  add- 
ed, "I  hope  he  has  in  him  every  evil  trait  of 
the  Urmsons  in  its  strongest  form." 

Both  his  hearers  were  startled.  Martha, 
rlways  reticent  and  undemonstrative,  only 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  him  with  a  gentle  con- 
sternation ;  but  the  parson  wheeled  round 
in  his  chair  and  bellowed  out :  "  "What  d'ye 
mean,  Cuthbert  ?  Are  you  crazy  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  replied  he.     "  A  family  is  a 
man  of  larger  growth  and  more  complex 
character,  but  of  individuality  as  distinct  as  | 
yours  or  mine.    It  is  young ;  it  grows  up,  ! 
prospers,  and  dies ;   its  years  are  genera- 
tions ;    each  one   inevitably  moulding  the  i 
next.    At  last  comes  a  year  when  all  its  ! 
evil  is  arrayed  against  all  its  good.     Then 
must  the  great  battle  be  lost  and  won." 

"  You've  been  a  heretic  ever  since  you 
could  speak,"  grumbled  the  old  gentleman; 


"  but  it's  a  new  heresy  to  wish  evil  to  one's 
children." 

"  Well,  let  me  have  my  heresy  out.  "When 
a  man  has  the  making  of  a  thorough  devil 
in  him,  he  has  the  possibility  of  an  angel  in 
him  too — for  angels  are  bare  survivors  from 
the  deadly  struggle  of  man  with  his  inher- 
ent devilishness.  In  that  struggle,  both  sides 
use  the  satne  weapons ;  and  the  stronger  the 
weapons  the  greater  the  final  victory  or  de- 
feat." 

"  What  weapons  do  you  mean,  dear  ? " 
asked  gentle  Martha. 

'"  I  mean  the  powers  and  passions  of  the 
mind  and  heart,  which  may  be  used  either 
for  good  or  for  evil.  Now,  in  our  own  fam- 
ily history,  the  Urmsons  have  generally  been 
worsted  by  their  old  Adam ;  yet  no  one  of 
them  was  ever  utterly  wicked,  and  hence  I 
infer  that  the  decisive  battle  has  not  yet 
come  off,  and  that  there  is  still  a  chance  to 
vindicate  the  angel.  He  in  whom  the  strag- 
gle culminates  must  be  thoroughly  Urmson — 
•a  compendium  of  the  race — no  diluted  alien 
like  myself.  The  more  stubborn  the  devil 
in  him  the  better  worth  the  victory,  should 
that  fall  to  the  angel.  Am  I  an  unnatural 
father,  my  little  Cotton,  if  I  pray  that  Garth 
may  turn  out  our  champion  ?  The  loftiest 
good  can  exist  only  on  the  overthrow  of  the 
deepest  evil." 

Martha  smiled  forgivingly  upon  her  hus- 
band, while  two  tears  rolled  down  her 
comely  cheeks,  and  fell  upon  the  plump  vis- 
age of  the  unconscious  babe.  But  the  large 
pastor  scratched  his  head  (whereon  white 
hair  grew  as  thickly  as  the  brown  had  done 
in  the  heyday  of  youth),  knitted  his  brows, 
and  growled : 

"  You're  a  queer  chap,  son  -  in  -  law  ! 
Humph !  takes  a  devil  to  make  an  angel,  is 
that  it  ?  Maybe  it  does ;  but,  though  you're 
as  poor  a  show  for  a  devil  as  any  man  I 
know,  if  all  Urmsons  had  been  like  you,  it 
might  have  been  better  for  them !  " 

With  this  ambiguous  utterance  the  Eev- 
erend  Mr.  Graeme  uplifted  his  towering 
figure  from  the  bench  in  the  porch,  where 
the  discussion  had  taken  place,  and  having 
resoundingly  kissed  the  mother  and  child, 
and  grasped  the  father's  hand,  he  swung  off 
through  the  late  August  afternoon,  carrying 


THE  BIRCH-ROD. 


23 


well  bis  seventy  years.  The  little  family 
stood  watching  him  till  he  was  hidden  with- 
in the  westward  forest,  and  then,  with  a 
lingering  glance  at  hazy  Wabeno,  they  en- 
tered the  house  in  great  tranquillity  of  spirit. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    BIRCH-ROD. 

DESPITE  tha  presages  of  a  momentous 
destiny,  the  infant  Garth  acted  as  though 
eating  and  sleeping  were  the  chief  ends  of 
man,  and  he  grew  strong  and  wholesome  ac- 
cordingly. One  of  his  earlier  exploits  was 
to  cry  for  the  American  flag  which  Captain 
Brian  had  brought  home  from  the  wars,  and 
which  was  festooned  over  the  nursery  fire- 
place. For  a  long  time  his  wishes  were  not 
understood ;  but  as  day  after  day  he  per- 
sisted in  his  inarticulate  demands,  with  many 
explosions  of  resentful  wrath,  his  mother, 
being  at  her  wits'  end,  finally  pulled  down 
the  historic  bunting  more  in  despair  than  in 
hope ;  and  having  shaken  the  dust  of  thirty 
years  out  of  its  folds,  she  surrendered  it  to 
the  despot.  He  graciously  received  it,  and 
wanted  no  better  plaything,  clutching  at  the 
bright  colors  with  his  little  fists,  and  emitting 
guttural  exclamations  of  approval.  The  flag 
was  afterward  draped  over  the  hood  of  his 
crib,  and  appeared  to  soothe  both  his  dreams 
and  his  temper. 

Mrs.  Urmson  maintained  that  his  pleasure 
in  it  was  based  upon  a  refined  love  of  beauty. 
But  the  parson,  whose  interest  in  the  young 
compendium  of  his  race  looked  forward  to 
different  issues,  explained  it  otherwise. 

"Love  of  beauty?  Ho!  ho!  ho!  Do 
you  take  Garth  for  a  young  lady,  to  be 
tickled  by  a  scarlet  ribbon  ?  Tut !  he's  no 
such  molly-coddle.  Garth  has  his  grand- 
father's spirit — the  spirit  of  Seventy-six, 
that  smote  the  oppressor  hip  and  thigh,  and 
made  us  the  greatest  nation  on  earth.  Patri- 
otism ! — that's  it.  lie  loves  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  because  they're  his  country's  flag." 

"In  my.  opinion,"  remarked  Cuthbert, 
"  you  both  of  you  misapprehend  the  matter, 
and  do  injustice  to  the  profundity  of  Garth's 


meaning.  He  recognizes  in  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  an  allegory  of  the  philosophy  of 
existence.  He  would  intimate  to  us  his  be- 
lief that  the  higher  ends  of  life  are  never  to 
be  attained,  unless  by  enduring  the  stripes 
of  adversity." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you'll  fiog  him  to  make 
him  a  good  boy  ? "  rejoined  grandfather 
Graeme. 

"  Oh !  "  deprecated  Martha. 

"  Why,  if  he  asked  my  help  in  that  di- 
rection, I  shouldn't  feel  justified  in  with- 
holding it,"  said  Cuthbert,  arching  his  eye- 
brow. "Being  his  father,  I  am  bound  to 
serve  him  until  he  is  able  to  serve  himself." 

"  And  of  course  he'll  always  be  begging 
you  not  to  spare  the  rod,"  threw  in  the 
ironic  parson ;  "  it's  a  way  boys  have  !  " 

"  Seriously,  I  shall  take  pains  to  explain 
the  matter  to  him.  Once  let  him  know  that 
naughtiness  is  the  parent  of  punishment, 
and  the  great  end  is  gained.  Despotism 
would  be  of  no  use  with  a  boy  of  his  make ; 
he  must  bring  himself  to  bear  against  him- 
self ;  he  must  be  delivered  over  to  the  jailer- 
ship  of  his  own  conscience.  I  shall  en- 
courage him  to  apply  to  me  only  in  ex- 
treme cases  ;  but,  whenever  he  does  tell  me 
that  he  wants  a  whipping,  I  shall  lay  aside 
all  personal  considerations,  and  drub  him 
soundly !  " 

"  He'll  be  no  such  fool,  depend  upon  it! " 
said  Mr.  Graeme,  nodding  his  white  head  at 
Martha  and  chuckling. 

"  I  hope  otherwise,"  returned  Cuthbert. 
"  Look  at  his  head.  Cerebellum  large,  and 
great  bumps  behind  the  ears ;  but  well- 
arched  crown,  and  square,  solid  forehead. 
He  will  have  reverence  for  law,  as  well  as 
for  his  own  free-will." 

But  the  parson  always  threw  ridicule 
upon  any  allusion  to  phrenology ;  and  even 
Mrs.  Urmson  was  secretly  pleased  to  hear 
that  her  beloved  son  was  to  be  his  own  dis- 
ciplinarian. She  argued  from  her  own  ten- 
derness, which  denied  the  use  of  suffering, 
and  ever  aimed  to  enlarge  the  boundaries  of 
mercy.  And,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned, 
Garth  was  spoiled  as  long  as  she  lived. 

Nevertheless,  Cuthbert's  plan  was  not 
unsuccessful.  Garth  was  violent,  passion- 
ate, and  headstrong,  long  before  he  was  rea- 


GARTH. 


sonable ;  bat  Iris  nature  was  essentially  rev- 
erential, and,  when  lie  found  that  his  liberty 
was  respected,  he  began  to  take  an  interest 
in  the  progress  of  his  moral  emancipation, 
and  to  listen  to  such  quiet  hints  regarding 
the  best  ways  of  fighting  the  old  Adam  as 
Cuthbert  from  time  to  time  let  fall.  It  was 
a  triumph  for  the  father  when  Garth  made 
his  first  spontaneous  request  to  be  put  in 
the  corner ;  and  by  degrees  the  small  war- 
rior found  out  that  there  were  no  pangs  like 
those  of  conscience,  which  were  sure  to  be- 
come worse  the  longer  the  antidote  was 
withheld.  As  he  grew  older  the  penitential 
corner  gave  way  to  other  prescriptions,  pro- 
portioned to  his  deeper  needs.  At  last  came 
the  turn  of  the  rod.  This  grim  instrument 
of  regeneration  had  been  confided  to  Garth's 
care  by  his  father,  when  the  former  was  five 
years  old,  the  gift  being  accompanied  by  a 
grave  explanation  of  its  use  and  properties ; 
and  the  little  man  was  further  enjoined  not 
to  allow  any  mistaken  tenderness  for  the 
parental  feelings  to  hinder  a  demand  for  its 
application,  whenever  necessary. 

"  It  will  hurt  us  both,  Garth,"  concluded 
Mr.  Urmson,  ''  but  we  must  not  forget  that 
the  wrong  would  hurt  us  more." 

Garth  listened  in  solemn  silence,  and  was 
evidently  much  impressed ;  but  the  day  of 
execution  did  not  arrive  until  nearly  two 
years  afterward.  Some  grievous  sin — his- 
tory does  not  specify  what  it  was — had 
been  committed,  and  straightway  a  dreadful 
struggle  began  between  Garth  and  his  con- 
science. Conscience  declared  that  the  de- 
linquent ought  to  be  whipped;  the  delin- 
quent rebelled,  and  the  contest  prolonged 
its  awful  length  from  the  morning  of  one 
day  to  the  afternoon  of  the  next ;  Cuthbert, 
Martha,  and  the  parson,  all  looking  on  in 
silent  suspense.  At  last  Old  Adam  got  the 
worst  of  it.  Obedient  to  an  appalling  sum- 
mons, Cuthbert  repaired  to  the  nursery, 
leaving  Martha  in  tears  and  the  parson 
puzzled  and  silent ;  nor  was  his  own  com- 
posure by  any  means  unruffled.  He  found 
Garth  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  floor, 
excited,  flashed,  ashamed,  but  resolute, 
holding  forth  the  rod.  It  was  a  trying  mo- 
ment, and  the  father's  heart  almost  faltered. 
Nevertheless,  the  tiring  must  be  done ;  and, 


inwardly  resolving  to  do  it  as  gently  as  ho 
dared,  he  was  making  the  few  simple  prep- 
arations for  the  ceremony,  when  the  victim 
said,  breathing  quick  through  his  clinched 
teeth : 

"  Hard!  papa — do  it  hard !  " 

Abashed  at  what  seemed  a  rebuke  of  his 
fuint-heartedness.  the  unhappy  executioner 
obeyed.  The  pain  was  much  sharper  than 
Garth  anticipated,  but  though  he  gnashed 
his  teeth  and  curled  his  little  toes  and  fin- 
gers in  anguish,  he  made  no  attempt  to 
escape,  or  to  curtail  the  proceedings.  When 
all  was  over,  the  father,  with  an  irrepres- 
sibly  guilty  feeling,  helped  the  little  man  to 
adjust  his  toilet,  amid  a  silence  broken 
only  by  the  spasmodic  sighs  of  yet  tumultu- 
ous emotion.  But,  as  they  were  leaving  the 
scene  of  the  tragedy,  Cuthbert  felt  his  sleeve 
pulled,  and  looked  sorrowfully  down  at  the 
crimson  little  phiz  upturned  to  him. 

"  Papa,"  said  the  smaller  sufferer,  in 
such  broken  accents  as  Iris  mental  and 
physical  disorder  permitted,  "I'm — sorry 
you — had  to  do  it !" 

"  So  am  I,  Garth—" 

u  Yes,  papa ;  and — it  isn't  fair — you 
should  have  to  do  it;  I  didn't — know  how 
to  do  it — before  ;  but  now  I — know,  I'll — 
do  it  for  you  next  time,  papa !  "  And  with 
this  the  heroic  tension  gave  way  in  a  flood 
of  tears. 

Cuthbert  had  not  expected  this,  and  at 
first  failed  to  grasp  the  full  significance  of 
the  matter.  But  in  a  moment  he  compre- 
hended the  chivalrous  truth,  and  stooping 
down  he  kissed  the  boy's  hot  cheek  with  a 
feeling  akin  'to  reverence,  though,  at  the 
same  time,  his  irrepressible  sense  of  the 
humorous  came  near  making  him  laugh. 

"You  are  a  fine  old  boy!"  said  ho. 
"  Let's  see  what  grandpapa  will  say  to 
that !  and  mamma  may  spoil  you  now  if  she 
can!" 

It  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  record  that 
Garth's  ingenuity  and  constancy  were  never 
called  upon  to  compass  a  self-inflicted  flog- 
ging. The  birch-rod  hung  for  many  years 
in  the  closet  where  he  kept  his  playthings, 
as  a  sort  of  memento  mori ;  but  no  sufficient 
occasion  for  using  it  ever  again  arose. 
Cuthbert,  indeed,  was  wont  to  lay  it,  in  a 


THE  FAERIE   QUEENE. 


figurative  sense,  across  the  parson's  shoulders, 
whenever  the  latter  criticised  his  theory  of 
education.  The  parson  could  only  scratch 
his  head  and  grumble  out  that  Garth's  letting 
himself  be  imposed  upon  was  no  argument 
in  favor  of  phrenology  ;  to  which  Cuthbert's 
answer  was  an  arch  lifting  of  the  eyebrow, 
and  a  general  air  of  irritating  complacency. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    FAERIE    QUEENE. 

HOWEVER,  there  were  still  many  wry 
strands  in  the  composition  of  the  youngest 
Urmson.  In  spite  of  a  sensitive  conscience, 
and  a  fine  sense  of  honor,  the  bugbear  of 
study  darkened  his  sunshine,  and  the  habit 
of  taciturnity  grew  upon  him.  The  open 
sky  attracted  him  like  a  magnet ;  he  knew 
the  woods  far  better  than  his  lessons.  In 
summer,  he  loved  to  lie  on  his  back  upon  the 
grass,  with  the  torrid  sun  pouring  its  light 
and  heat  straight  down  upon  him.  He  had 
a  gift  of  laziness,  a  talent  for  preoccupation, 
and  a  genius  for  wonder.  In  short,  he 
caused  his  grandfather  continual  anxiety. 

"  Teach  him  the  deaf-and-dumb  alpha- 
bet," growled  the  old  gentleman.  "He's 
quicker  with  his  fingers  than  with  his 
tongue,  any  day." 

"  Garth  has  sense,  father,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Martha,  quietly  darning. 

'•  Why  can't  he  talk,  then?  A  little  non- 
sense would  do  him  no  harm,  to  set  his  sense 
going." 

"Perhaps  he's  silent  from  policy,"  was 
Cuthbert's  suave  suggestion,  "  as  negroes  say 
that  monkeys  won't  talk  lest  they  be  forced 
to  work.  lie  values  the  few  ideas  he  has 
too  highly  to  betray  their  whereabouts  by 
speech.  Only  those  who  imbibe  the  world 
readily  find  much  to  say." 

Martha  glanced  covertly  at  her  husband's 
mischievous  mouth,  and  continued  her  darn- 
ing, with  a  smile.  The  simple  pastor  an- 
swered : 

"  Wrong  principle,  son-in-law !  Good 
talking  never  spoiled  an  idea.  I'm  eighty 
last  birthday,  and  I  guess  I've  done  as  much 


talking  as  most  folks,  and  I'm  none  the 
worse  for  it  that  I  know  of.  Hold  your 
tongue  for  fear  of  losing  your  ideas  ?  haw ! 
haw !  haw !  Might  as  well  stop  planting 
grape-vines  for  fear  of  spoiling  the  grapes." 

"  I  only  give  Garth's  probable  argument. 
But,  to  tell  the  truth,  I'm  afraid  Garth's 
silence  is  nothing  but  pretense." 

"  Ha !  well,  now  you're  beyond  me," 
said  the  parson,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Why,  for  instance,  there  are  people 
who  talk 'from  morning  till  night,  and  yet 
actually  say  less  than  Garth  does.  That  sort 
of  silence  is  really  silence,  but  merely  to  ab- 
stain from  uttering  words  is  silence  only  in 
appearance.  Garth,  in  my  hearing,  has  often 
held  his  tongue  in  such  a  way  that  I  thought 
he  was  talking  to  good  purpose." 

"Send  him  to  school!"  exclaimed  tho 
parson,  as  briskly  as  if  he  had  never  given 
the  advice  before. 

"I  dare  not  assume  the  responsibility; 
he  would  corrupt  the  scholars.  You  don't 
half  know  him.  Why,  last  Sunday  afternoon 
he  disappeared,  wearing  the  new  clothes  tha'i 
Cotton  had  just  made  him.  About  sunset  I 
found  him  on  his  back  in  a  swamp,  with  his 
head  underneath  a  rhodora-bush.  He  said  the 
flowers  looked  prettier  from  that  point  of 
view ;  and  he  wouldn't  pluck  any,  for  fear 
they'd  be  homesick.  You  can't  send  a  boy 
like  that  to  school." 

"  Humph!  very  odd,"  muttered  the  par- 
son, gravely. 

"  That  is  a  trifle.  But  the  other  morning 
I  woke  up  about  four  o'clock  with  one  of 
my  toothaches,  and  went  into  his  room  for 
the  medicine-chest.  There  Be  was  in  hio 
night-gown,  his  head  out  of  the  open  win- 
dow, and  so  absorbed  as  not  to  notice  me  till 
I  went  up  and  asked  him  what  had  happened. 
He  pointed  to  the  eastern  horizon.  It  was  near 
sunrise,  and  the  sky  was  covered  with  yellow, 
red,  and  purple  clouds.  He  had  got  out  of 
bed  on  a  cold  May  morning  just  to  see  that.'' 

"  Well,  now,  think  of  that !  doesn't  sound 
much  like  an  Urmson — eh  ? " 

"  You  know  that  kaleidoscope  of  his," 
continued  Cuthbert,  delighted  with  the  ef- 
fect he  was  producing ;  "  he  never  was  with- 
out it  until  quite  lately.  I  supposed  he  had 
broken  it ;  but  yesterday  I  missed  one  of  the 


26 


GARTH. 


glass  prisms  from  the  old  candlestick,  and 
this  morning  I  found  Garth  sitting  in  the 
sun,  throwing  the  seven  colors  on  a  blank 
leaf  of  the  'Faerie  Queene.'  He  was  de- 
lighted with  the  thing,  and  thought  it  was  a 
discovery  of  his  own." 

"  The  'Faerie  Queene  '—what's  that  ?  " 

"  A  book  of  antiquated  poetry,  which  I 
believe  the  boy  knows  by  heart.  But  what 
could  our  schoolmaster  make  out  of  a  fellow 
like  that  ? " 

The  good  pastor  sighed,  and  rubbed  his 
bewildered  brow.  "  Well,  trust  in  the  Lord, 
son-in-law ;  maybe  he'll  outgrow  it.  I'm 
glad  to  see  you  don't  lose  heart  about  him, 
although  seeing  his  faults  as  clearly  as  a 
stranger  might.  He's  a  stout,  broad-shoul- 
dered lad,  anyway,  and  as  sweet  a  disposi- 
tion as  any  I  know  of." 

Upon  this  Martha  arose  and  kissed  her 
father;  and  Garth  coming  in  at  the  mo- 
ment, with  his  dark  tangled  hair  and  his 
scarlet  boating-shirt,  even  the  unsympathetic 
Cuthbert  looked  at  him  with  a  certain  tol- 
erance, not \vithstanding  the  prism  and  the 
"Faerie  Queene." 

The  "Faerie  Queene"  had  first  revealed 
herself  to  Garth  about  a  year  before,  and  he 
was  now  completely  under  the  spell  of  her 
enchantment.  The  sway  and  music  of  the 
•verse  and  rhyme  charmed  him,  he  knew  not 
why ;  he  lived  in  every  champion,  from  the 
Itedcross  Knight  to  Sir  Calidore,  engaging 
with  tragic  sympathy  in  each  adventure, 
putting  his  whole  heart  into  each  sword- 
stroke  and  lance-thrust,  and  trembling  over 
the  fate  of  every  wronged  and  lovely  lady. 
The  fable  was  to  him  more  real  than  the 
actual  circumstances  amid  which  he  lived ; 
and  he  saw  giants  and  enchanted  castles  in 
his  rocks  and  trees,  and  followed  the  steps 
of  nymphs  and  satyrs  through  the  woods. 
He  never  left  the  house,  but  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  encountering  such  perils  and 
achieving  such  knightly  deeds  as  would  take 
a  week  to  recount  and  a  regiment  of  Arthurs 
and  Arthegalls  to  rival.  No  event,  of  his 
daily  lite  so  trifling,  but  a  touch  of  imagina- 
tion lifted  it  into  the  region  of  romance  and 
chivalry.  Every  true  boy  is  a  Don  Quixote 
at  heart,  and  acts  out  the  character  accord- 
ing to  his  capacity  and  opportunity. 


Garth  happened  to  be  well  furnished  in 
both  respects.  He  could  imagine  anything ; 
his  time  was  more  his  own  than  any  one  ex- 
cept his  parents  thought  good  for  him  ;  and 
in  the  vast  garret  which  extended  all  over 
the  top  of  the  house  there  was  enough  old 
armor  to  equip  half  a  dozen  knightly  Garths. 
Here  were  the  steel  caps,  breastplates,  and 
battle-axes,  which  had  glanced  so  brightly  in 
the  sunshine  of  two  hundred  years  ago, 
when  Captain  Neil  Urmson  and  his  band 
first  stood  on  the  site  of  Urmhurst.  They 
were  rusty  now,  but  enough  of  the  original 
brightness  remained  to  show  how  resplen- 
dent they  must  formerly  have  been.  The 
dusty  sunbeams  which  slanted  through  the 
cobwebs  of  the  garret-windows  tried  with 
ill-success  to  reflect  themselves  from  the 
corroded  surface  of  the  steel.  Garth  had  at 
first  mistaken  this  red  rust  for  blood,  and 
lost  himself  in  awful  imaginings,  till  grim 
spectres  in  mortal  combat  peopled  every 
corner  of  the  dark  garret. 

But  in  process  of  time  he  took  courage, 
and  set  to  work  furbishing  up  the  ancient 
harness,  with  a  view  to  entering  the  pro- 
fession of  knight-errantry  forthwith.  For  a 
time  the  forest  and  the  sky  knew  him  no 
more,  and  it  was  several  days  before  even 
his  father  found  him  out.  Cuthbert,  too,  in 
his  boyish  days,  had  spent  many  an  hour  in 
the  old  garret,  being  attracted  thither  not 
by  the  armor,  but  by  a  great  mountain  of 
quaint  and  dusty  literature,  the  heedless 
accumulation  of  unknown  Urmson  genera- 
tions: from  which  the  studious  youth  had 
extracted  more  information  concerning  the 
past  history  of  his  race  than  was  possessed 
by  any  other  person  then  alive.  But  Garth, 
who  was  at  once  more  matter-of-fact  and 
more  imaginative  than  his  father,  deemed  a 
helmet  and  buckler  to  be  worth  all  the  musty 
parchments  in  the  world.  He  scrubbed 
away,  therefore,  and  the  faded  arms  shone 
once  more,  reviving  under  the  influence  of 
a  chivalric  spirit.  Garth,  in  the  purified 
armor  of  his  forefathers,  his  young  fer- 
vent face  glowing  boyishly  heroic  beneath 
the  steel  head-piece,  the  battle-axe  heavy 
in  his  guiltless  grasp,  must  have  been  a 
fair  sight,  which  it  had  been  churlish  of  the 
old  garret  to  keep  to  itself.  Among  many 


THE   FAERIE   QUEENE. 


27 


secrets  it  had  known  none  pleasanter  than  I 
this. 

Had  the  secret  been  left  to  Garth  to  re- 
veal, it  might  have  remained  hidden  to  this 
day ;  for  within  the  boundaries  of  his  ideal 
realm  he  was  shy  of  human  presence  and 
criticism,  mankind  being  less  amenable  to 
the  transforming  wand  of  his  imagination 
than  anything  besides.  But  his  father,  who 
divined  the  boy's  condition,  climbed  the 
garret-stairs  in  the  character  of  Sir  Guyon 
and  plunged  with  snch  zest  into  enchanted 
lore  that  taciturn  Garth  was  soon  in  arrears. 
None  the  less  was  he  gladdened  by  the  reve- 
lation of  a  kindred  spirit — one  who  not  only 
honored  his  knights  and  ladies  and  shared 
his  high  hostility  against  magicians  and 
giants,  but  who  was  learned  in  the  laws  of 
chivalry  and  the  etiquette  of  knighthood — 
matters  whereof  Garth  knew  little.  That 
was  a  happy  afternoon  that  the  two  passed 
together  in  the  garret ;  Garth  told  himself 
that  he  had  never  known  his  father  till  now. 
A  whole  new  vein  of  companionship  was 
opened  up  between  them.  The  universe  was 
deeper  and  wider  than  of  yore,  with  glimpses 
of  harmonious  meanings  underneath.  And 
when  Cuthbert,  trusting  to  the  innate  sym- 
bolism of  the  boy's  mind,  ventured  to  raise 
a  little  the  veil  of  the  faerie  allegory,  Garth's 
eyes  glowed,  and  he  lifted  his  head.  The 
best  that  he  had  dreamed  was  true — and 
more  than  the  best.  What  a  noble,  valiant 
world  was  this  that  men  lived  in ! 

Thus  encouraged,  Garth  had  little  hesita- 
tion in  following  his  father  down-stairs  and 
making  knightly  obeisance  at  his  mother's 
footstool.  But  gentle  Cotton  Martha,  with 
her  feminine  timidity,  was  half  dismayed  at 
so  warlike  an  apparition,  and  could  scarcely 
divest  herself  of  a  misgiving  that  it  fore- 
boded some  peril  to  the  beloved  boy  him- 
self. In  time,  however,  maternal  pride  and 
admiration  got  the  better  of  alarm ;  and  soon 
she  could  notice  that,  though  his  helmet  fitted 
well,  his  breastplate  was  too  big  for  him ; 
and  could  devise  and  make  such  alterations 
as  at  last  turned  him  out  a  well-appointed 
hero. 

"  But  there's  one  thing  you  have  for- 
gotten, Sir  Garth,"  observed  his  father. 
"  You  have  no  lady-love  !  " 


"  Mamma  is  my  lady-love,"  answered  the 
champion,  with  a  sort  of  indignation  that 
there  should  even  be  a  question  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  throwing  his  arm  around  her  waist. 

"  I  would  do  battle  with  you  for  her, 
were  I  younger,"  said  Cuthbert  after  a  pause. 
"  As  it  is,  I  suppose  I  must  resign  her  with 
what  grace  I  may.  Cotton,  my  dear,  accept 
your  new  knight !  Bind  your  favor  upon 
his  crest,  and  bid  him  be  right  faithful, 
brave,  and  true  in  deed  and  word,  in  his 
campaign  against  the  powers  of  darkness. 
Garth,  you  have  chosen  your  lady  well ;  but 
take  warning  by  the  Eedcross  Knight,  and 
let  no  false  Duessa  lead  you  astray  !  " 

Garth  looked  proudly  in  his  mother's 
eyes,  while  she  fastened  on  his  steel  cap  the 
blue  kerchief  from  her  throat.  That  cere- 
mony over,  he  kissed — not  her  hand,  as  the 
etiquette  of  chivalry  demanded,  but  her  lips 
heartily.  And  then  he  sallied  forth,  for  the 
first  time  since  donning  his  accoutrements, 
into  the  open  air  and  sunshine. 

"  The  old  boy  makes  quite  a  fine  appear- 
ance, doesn't  he  ?  "  remarked  Cuthbert,  smil- 
ing. "  His  arms,  like  St.  George's,  bear  the 
cruel  marks  of  many  a  bloody  field,  though 
arms  till  this  time  did  he  never  wield.  God 
bless  him  !  " 

"  Is  it  wise,  husband,"  questioned  the 
mother,  smiling  but  sighing  too,  "  to  train 
him  to  love  snch  things  ?  His  forefathers 
were  violent  men,  and  he  has  so  much  of 
their  adventurous  and  warlike  spirit — does 
it  need  fostering? " 

"  It's  the  old  story  of  the  birch-rod  again. 
Garth  has  those  warlike  traits,  and  the  best 
thing  to  do  is  to  enlist  them  on  the  right 
side.  He  understands  the  allegory  of  self- 
conquest — that  Garth  the  unregenerate  must 
be  his  sole  enemy.  I  bade  him  lay  on  and 
spare  not — to  kill  himself  fifty  times  a  day 
if  necessary  ;  and  if  this  old  Puritan  armor, 
which  has  stood  the  brunt  of  Prince  Eupert's 
Cavaliers,  helps  him  feel  the  reality  of  the 
battle,  it  will  be  well  worth  the  furbishing 
he  has  given  it ;  not  to  speak  of  other  good 
results." 

Martha  retired  in-doors,  but  Cuthbert 
staid  in  the  porch,  watching  the  shadow 
of  a  great  white  cloud  travel  southward 
down  the  valley  ;  now  crossing  the  pasture, 


28 


GARTH. 


now  the  wood  beyond ;  presently  darken- 
ing the  bright  surface  of  the  lake ;  anon  j 
sweeping  slowly  along  the  meadowed  river- 
basin,  and  finally  mottling  the  distant  flank 
of  slumbering  Wabeno.  All  at  once  a  flash 
of  reflected  sunlight  fell  on  his  eyes,  and 
caused  him  to  look  round. 

"Here  goes  your  champion,  Lady  Mar- 
tha," he  called  to  his  wife.  "  He  has 
mounted  old  Dobbin,  and  is  riding  off  to 
slay  the  dragon  with  a  lance  made  out  of  the 
handle  of  the  hay -rake.  You  ought  to  mount 
the  castle-turret,  dishevel  your  hair,  and 
pray  that  the  dragon  does  not  eat  him  up  !  " 

Sir  Garth,  riding  slowly  (for  old  Dobbin 
had  abated  much  of  his  original  fire),  passed 
gleaming  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  trees 
and  was  lost  to  view ;  and  his  father  re- 
sumed his  meditations.  Nearly  an  hour 
went  by ;  then  the  sound  of  hoofs  attracted 
his  eyes  once  more  westward. 

"Cotton,  come  quickly!  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Your  champion  returns  victorious ;  he  has 
rescued  a  fair  lady  from  thraldom,  and  she 
rides  behind  him  with  her  arms  about  his 
waist.  The  giant,  the  owner  of  the  castle, 
now  vanquished  and  a  prisoner,  is  forced  to 
accompany  them  on  foot,  and  assist  the  lady 
in  keeping  her  seat.  Do  come  out  and  look ! 
My  poor  Cotton,  yon  have  a  rival  already ! 
no  Duessa  though,  let  us  hope." 

"  Oh,  it's  father ;  and  who  is  that  little 
girl  ?  it  must  be  Madge  Danver.  Some  more 
medicine  for  her  poor  mother,  I  suppose." 

"  Haw,  haw,  haw !  "  bellowed  the  patri- 
arch, as  the  group  came  up ;  "  so  you're 
really  alive  ?  Madge  and  I  lost  our  way  after 
leaving  the  village,  and  strayed  into  the  cen- 
tury before  last ;  and  I  was  looking  out  for 
my  grandfather — ho,  ho,  ho !  We  met  Cap- 
tain Neil  Urmson,  here,  instead,  and  he  was 
kind  enough  to  let  the  third-cousin  of  his 
great-great-great-grandson  ride  behind  him. 
If  there  wasn't  a  couple  of  centuries  or  so 
difference  in  ages,  I  should  be  anxious  about 
the  old  chap's  heart — eh,  son-in-law  ?  Oh, 
ho,  ho,  ho! — eh,  Mattie,  girl? — ha,  ha,  haw, 
haw,  ho !  There,  jump  down,  my  little 
dear — that's  right!  Yes,  Mrs.  Danver  has 
her  hip  again,  Mattie — wants  your  bryonia. 
— Well,  Captain  Urmson,"  he  added  to  Garth, 
"  when  you  come  back  from  the  stables, 


your  remote  posterity  will  be  glad  of  a  chat 
with  you  !  "  And  with  a  final  roar  the  jolly 
parson  led  the  way  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

CALF- LOVE. 

SINCE  the  world  grew  old  she  has  taken 
to  making  fun  of  some  things  which  former- 
ly she  reverenced ;  and,  among  other  things, 
of  children.  The  deeds,  thoughts,  and  emo- 
tions, of  that  part  of  the  community,  so  far 
as  they  affect  us  at  all,  amuse  us ;  we  find 
them  transient,  and  therefore  laugh  at  them. 
Yet  the  logic  of  the  case  seems  defective ;  if 
it  be  true  that  the  aroma  of  heaven  abides 
with  us  but  a  few  years,  and  that  afterward 
we  come  to  smell  of  the  earth,  would  it  not 
be  wiser  to  grieve  than  to  grin  ? 

To  a  humane  mind,  one  would  suppose, 
nothing  could  "be  more  touching  than  the 
spectacle  of  that  fresh,  wondering,  purely 
passionate  homage  of  a  boy  for  a  girl — that 
self-devotion  of  the  new  man,  who  obscure- 
ly feels  that  human  nature  is  twofold,  for 
the  opposite  side  of  the  tender  mystery,  the 
lovelier,  diviner  Eve — which  the  world  has 
agreed  to  call  calf-love !  It  is  a  sentiment 
refined  beyond  the  scope  of  our  common  ex- 
pression ;  something  too  delicate  to  be  de- 
liberately recalled  and  described.  In  finer 
moments — in  a  happy  strain  of  music  or  a 
sudden  insight  into  nature — we  may  catch 
an  echo  or  a  glimpse  of  it ;  but  the  moment 
after,  it  has  vanished,  ere  we  can  say  with 
the  memory  of  a  memory,  "Lo,  there!  " 

There  is  a  mute  pathos  about  it.  Your 
boy  is  your  only  true  sighing  lover  ;  he  must 
sigh  whether  his  suit  prosper  or  not.  The 
reason  is,  that  boys  know  nothing  of  the 
soul ;  soul  and  body  are  in  them  so  soundly 
united  that  they  confound  spiritual  longings 
with  physical  ones.  At  the  same  time,  the 
very  refinement  of  those  spiritual  longings 
inculcates  the  impossibility  of  their  earthly 
gratification;  the  gross  body  lies  in  the  way, 
yet  the  boy's  philosophy  declares  the  body 
to  be  all.  His  love  feeds  perforce  on  dreams 
and  visions ;  even  the  beloved  one  herself 


CALF-LOVE. 


29 


must  not  come  too  near.  An  actual  embrace 
would  degrade  the  imaginary  one  ;  it  would 
be  too  much,  because  proving  that  there 
could  never  be  enough.  Later  on  in  life  we 
may  temper  such  failures  with  gossip  of  im- 
mortality ;  but  boys  live  only  in  the  present, 
and  regard  death  as  the  final  annihilation 
of  existence. 

That  Garth  should  be  a  victim  to  this 
melancholy  passion  was  only  what  was  to 
be  expected  from  a  boy  of  his  character  ;  and 
the  grave  intensity  of  his  nature  promised 
to  render  the  attack  a  more  than  ordinarily 
prolonged  one.  Moreover,  Madge  Danver 
was  a  very  fascinating  little  creature  ;  quite 
able,  on  her  own  merits,  to  impose  constancy 
upon  a  colder  lover  than  Garth  was  likely  to 
prove.  Yet  the  growth  of  the  sentiment  in 
him  proceeded  slowly,  and  for  a  time  with- 
out his  even  being  conscious  of  its  existence. 
From  that  afternoon  when  the  dark-eyed 
little  maiden  clung  to  his  steel-clad  waist, 
the  great  horse  bearing  her  and  him  onward 
to  a  common  destination,  while  the  rever- 
end giant  strode  beside  them,  lending  to 
their  union  the  support  of  the  church ;  from 
that  hour  to  the  one  in  which  Garth  finally 
realized  that  he  loved  her,  was  a  period  of 
more  than  three  years.  And,  even  then,  the 
realization  was  brought  about  by  an  accident. 
He  had  been  acquainted  with  Madge, 
childishly  speaking,  as  long  as  he  could  re- 
member; and  his  earliest  feeling  with  re- 
gard to  her  had  been  a  slight  boyish  aver- 
sion. Her  confident,  self-possessed  vivacity 
had  jarred  against  his  constitutional  reserve, 
and,  in  a  general  way,  he  preferred  her  room 
to  her  company.  But,  after  their  woodland 
adventure,  his  attitude  toward  her  suffered 
a  change.  The  change  troubled  him,  and 
his  first  impulse  (as  it  often  happens)  was 
to  misinterpret  it.  He  persuaded  himself 
that  instead  of  passively  objecting  to  her,  as 
heretofore,  he  now  actively  disliked  her — 
nor  was  this  persuasion  entirely  without  ar- 
guments to  justify  it.  The  beginnings  of  a 
powerful  emotion — one  destined  vitally  to 
influence  the  nature — are  apt  to  be  painful ; 
and  pain,  in  a  child's  estimation,  is  synony- 
mous with  evil.  "When  Garth,  therefore,  found 
that  the  thought  of  Madge  disturbed  him, 
and  that  her  presence  threw  him  into  a  state 


of  tremor  and  distress,  and  that  the  sound 
of  her  voice  or  the  touch  of  her  hand  made 
him  positively  uncomfortable,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  should  have  looked  upon  her 
as  an  enemy.  He  could  no  longer  be  him- 
self because  of  her ;  she  interfered  with  his 
freedom,  she  had  cast  a  spell  over  him;  she 
was  a  witch — a  malicious  enchantress !  She 
deserved  to  have  her  head  cut  off;  but,  alas ! 
the  executioner's  arm  was  powerless  against 
her,  and  the  more  she  merited  punishment 
the  less  heart  had  he  to  inflict  it. 

But,  by-and-by,  Garth  began  to  ask  him- 
self whether,  after  all,  Madge  was  really  re- 
sponsible for  his  disquietude.  "Was  he  not 
tormenting  himself,  and  then  laying  the 
blame  on  her  ?  Had  he  any  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  she  was  even  aware  of  his  suffer- 
ings? Was  it  her  fault  that  when  he  fled 
from  her  he  seemed  to  take  her  with  him  in 
his  flight,  insomuch  that  the  remotest  soli- 
tude was  peopled  with  her  ?  Could  she  help 
it  that  he  met  her  eye  in  every  flower,  and 
heard  her  tones  in  every  bird-note,  or  that 
all  he  thought  and  did  had  reference  to  her? 
It  was  unjust  to  assume  as  much  without 
proof,  and  what  proof  had  he?  "Was  any 
proof  obtainable  ?  "Well,  it  might  be  worth 
while  to  try.  What  if,  instead  of  shunning 
her  altogether,  he  were  to  watch  her  secret- 
ly, so  that,  if  she  were  really  a  witch,  he 
might  some  day  surprise  her  in  the  very  act 
of  brewing  her  spell  ?  The  more  Garth  con- 
sidered this  plan  the  better  ii  pleased  him, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  he  put  it  in  prac- 
tice. He  climbed  trees  beneath  which  Madge 
was  to  pass,  and  peeped  fearfully  down  at 
her  from  between  the  branches  ;  he  slipped 
behind  rocks,  and,  with  a  beating  heart,  lis- 
tened to  her  approaching  and  departing 
steps ;  or,  from  some  distant  coign  of  van- 
tage, he  would  feverishly  observe  her  play- 
ing about  in  her  cottage-garden.  But  all 
this  espionage  failed  to  provide  him  with 
evidence  in  support  of  his  injurious  sus- 
picions. Madge  was  not  a  witch ;  what, 
then,  was  she  ?  If  she  was  not  something 
very  bad,  might  she  not  possibly  be  some- 
thing very  good  ?  It  had  by  this  time  be- 
come a  question  of  extremes  one  way  or  the 
other.  If  she  were  very  good,  how  was  it 
that  he  disliked  her  ?  Did  ho  dislike  her  ? 


30 


GAETII. 


When  once  that  question  had  been  asked, 
of  course  it  could  be  answered  in  only  one 
way.  Madge  was  an  angel,  and  Garth  adored 
her ;  not  she,  but  his  own  blindness  had  been 
at  fault.  By  the  light  of  his  present  revela- 
tion, he  reviewed  his  past  experiences,  and 
fancied  that  he  understood  them  thoroughly. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  open  to  doubt  whether  he 
saw  his  mistress,  at  this  juncture,  so  clearly 
as  either  before  or  afterward.  He  endowed 
her  with  graces  filched  from  the  fairies. 
There  had  thus  far  been  no  actual  intimacy 
between  the  two,  such  as  might  mould  into 
definite  shape  the  lover's  fantastic  hyper- 
boles. Garth  loved,  but  he  loved  an  ideal ; 
not,  as  yet,  a  creature  of  flesh  and  blood, 
and  it  is  not  improbable  that,  had  he  been 
left  to  himself,  he  might  have  gone  on  lov- 
ing the  ideal  Madge  until  the  real  one  had 
been  quite  outgrown.  He  was  very  shy, 
and,  in  the  absence  of  any  outside  agency 
forcing  him  to  identify  the  shadow  with  the 
substance,  he  might  easily  have  suffered 
them  to  diverge  beyond  the  point  of  recon- 
cilement. It  was  a  critical  moment  in  the 
affair.  Madge  was  prevented  from  influ- 
encing the  issue  simply  by  her  ignorance  of 
there  being  any  issue  to  influence.  Garth 
was  the  last  boy  in  the  neighborhood  whom 
she  would  have  expected  to  be  in  love  with 
her ;  and  he  was  the  only  boy  of  her  ac- 
quaintance in  whose  presence  she  had  ever 
felt  embarrassment.  She  did  not  under- 
stand him,  and  was  a  little  afraid  of  him ; 
she  saw  that  he  was  not  ill-looking,  but  she 
was  sure  that  he  was  disagreeable.  It  was 
evident,  therefore,  that  the  denoument  would 
depend  upon  some  accidental  turn  of  events' 
for  which  neither  Garth  nor  Madge  would 
be  consciously  responsible. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MADGE. 

GAKTH'S  great-grandfather  had  been  a 
farmer,  and,  during  the  second  quarter  of 
the  last  century,  he  had  dealings  with  a  cer- 
tain M.  d'Anver,  an  Acadian,  who  was  like- 
wise a  farmer,  and  wealthy  in  land  and 
herds.  Afterward,  when  the  expatriation 


of  the  Acadians  took  place,  the  D'Anver 
family  directed  their  steps  to  New  Hamp- 
shire, and  finally  arrived  in  a  pretty  desti- 
tute condition  at  the  little  village  of  Urms- 
worth.  The  villagers,  with  Mr.  Urmson  at 
their  head,  received  the  exiles  hospitably. 
and  presented  them  with  a  small  grant  of 
land  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  In 
the  course  of  the  ensuing  five-and-twenty 
years,  the  family  managed  to  acquire  a  tol- 
erable competence,  and,  as  they  took  kindly 
to  their  new  surroundings,  no  one  had  cause 
to  regret  their  advent. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  Pierre 
Danver,  son  of  the  first  settler,  eagerly  took 
sides  against  the  English  ;  and  he  and  Brian 
Urmson  (then  a  youth  of  nineteen)  marched 
with  Ethan  Allen  to  Ticonderoga.  A  few 
months  later,  Pierre  was  permanently  dis- 
abled by  a  gunshot-wound.  His  young  com- 
panion-in-arms brought  him  home,  and,  be- 
fore leaving  again,  was  betrothed  to  Pierre's 
sister  Marie.  With  her  kiss  upon  his  lips  he 
returned  to  the  war,  and,  after  a  series  of 
wild  adventures  on  land,  he  took  service  on 
board  a  privateersman,  of  which  he  subse- 
quently became  commander.  When  peace 
was  declared,  he  reappeared  at  Urmhurst 
with  the  title  of  captain,  and  with  a  goodly 
sum  of  prize-money  in  his  purse.  His  father 
having  died  meanwhile,  Captain  Brian  took 
possession  of  the  estate,  which  he  consid- 
erably enriched  by  judicious  investments. 
Marie  Danver  had  remained  true  to  him 
throughout  the  seven  weary  years  of  their 
betrothment,  and  he  now  married  her  in 
spite  of  certain  obscure  rumors  as  to  some 
entanglement  of  his  with  a  lady  in  Virginia. 
He  lived  happily  with  his  wife  for  twelve 
years,  when  she  died,  having  borne  him  one 
child — the  Cuthbert  of  this  story. 

Captain  Brian  remained  a  widower  seven 
years,  and,  for  all  that  his  neighbors  ex- 
pected, he  would  have  remained  one  to  the 
end  of  his  days;  but,  one  winter's  morning, 
a  mysterious  stranger  suddenly  made  her 
appearance  in  Urmsworth.  No  one  knew 
who  she  was  or  whence  she  came.  Though 
somewhat  past  the  prime  of  life,  she  was 
still  handsome,  and  had  the  air  of  a  lady  ac- 
customed to  luxury  and  refinement.  She 
engaged  lodgings  in  the  village,  and  then 


MADGE. 


31 


sent  a  messenger  to  Urmhurst  with  a  note 
for  Captain  Brian  Urmson.  The  note  was 
delivered,  and,  half  an  hour  afterward,  the 
captain  presented  himself  at  her  parlor-door. 
His  call  was  prolonged  until  late  in  the  af- 
ternoon, and,  on  leaving,  he  repaired  di- 
rectly to  the  parsonage,  and  had  a  private 
interview  with  the  Reverend  Mr.  Graeme. 
Two  days  afterward  it  was  known  that  Mrs. 
Golightley  and  Captain  Urmson  were  to  be 
married,  and,  before  the  end  of  another 
week,  the  wedding  had  actually  taken  place. 

The  village  was  fain  to  deal  with  its  as- 
tonishment and  curiosity  as  best  it  might, 
for  the  captain  never  vouchsafed  any  expla- 
nation of  this  singular  proceeding.  He  was 
passionately  devoted  to  his  new  wife,  and 
she  to  him ;  but  their  union  was  not  des- 
tined to  last  long.  She  survived  her  mar- 
riage only  three  years,  during  which  time 
she  gave  birth  to  two  children — Eve  and 
Golightley — dying  in  childbed  when  the 
latter  was  about  three  months  old.  Her 
husband,  as  we  know,  took  her  death  very 
much  to  heart ;  but  ha  had  his  little  Eve  to 
comfort  him  ;  and,  though  poor  Golightley 
was  never  in  much  favor,  Cuthbert,  who 
was  by  this  time  approaching  his  twentieth 
year,  was  admitted  by  his  father  to  a  friend- 
ly, rather  than  a  merely  filial,  footing.  One 
reason  of  this  distinction  probably  was  that 
Cuthbert  never  showed  any  fear  of  the  sav- 
age and  morose  old  warrior,  but  answered 
him  always  with  a  respectful  firmness  that 
commanded  equally  his  affection  and  respect. 
Among  the  villagers,  however,  Golightley 
was  more  popular  than  his  half-brother,  the 
latter  being  considered  self-opinionated  and 
satirical.  Cuthbert  graduated  at  Bowdoin, 
and  then,  in  the  same  year  that  Eve  was 
lost,  set  out  on  his  travels,  and  did  not  come 
back  till  he  was  over  thirty. 

Meantime,  the  Danvers  had  been  suffer- 
ing reverses.  Captain  Urmson,  after  his  first 
wife's  death,  had  not  been  at  much  pains  to 
keep  up  an  intimacy  with  her  family ;  and 
his  second  marriage  widened  the  gap  be- 
tween him  and  them.  Pierre's  son  was  a 
man  of  some  mechanical  genius,  and  of  an 
inventive  turn  of  intellect.  He  sank  a  great 
deal  of  money  in  experimenting  with  his  in- 
ventions, and  gradually  contracted  the  habit 


of  solacing  his  disappointments  with  drink. 
To  add  to  his  misfortunes,  he  was  of  an 
uncomfortably  sensitive  temperament,  and 
chose  to  take  umbrage  at  the  captain's  neg- 
lect ;  and,  when  adversity  came,  his  pride 
would  not  allow  him  to  apply  to  Urmhurst 
for  assistance.  Shortly  before  the  captain's 
decease,  however,  he  married  a  young  wom- 
an who  was  something  of  an  invalid  and  a 
good  deal  of  a  shrew,  but  who  brought  him  a 
dowry  of  several  thousand  dollars.  The  only 
offspring  of  this  marriage  was  little  dark-eyed 
Madge,  who  came  into  the  world  a  few  years 
after  Garth.  By  this  time,  thanks  to  the 
kindly  overtures  of  Cuthbert  and  his  gentle 
wife,  the  old  relations  between  the  two  fami- 
lies had  been  reestablished  on  a  friendlier 
footing  than  ever,  and,  the  Danvers  being 
again  in  a  needy  condition,  the  Urmsons 
were  able  to  exercise  their  benevolent  inge- 
nuity in  devising  expedients  for  relieving 
them  without  offending  their  susceptibili- 
ties. 

As  for  Madge,  she  was  both  mentally  and 
physically  prococious;  she  always  led  her 
class  at  school,  and,  though  not  a  large  child, 
was  active  and  skillful  in  dancing,  skating, 
and  such-like  exercises.  She  was  the  first 
of  her  race  to  be  baptized  into  the  Protes- 
tant Church ;  Parson  Graeme  officiated  at 
the  ceremony,  and  ever  afterward  took  the 
little  convert  into  his  especial  favor  and 
protection.  But  Madge  was  almost  univer- 
sally popular  among  grown-up  people.  She 
possessed  a  charming  vivacity  and  confidence 
of  manner,  tempered  by  a  subtile  Jact  which 
enabled  her  to  steer  clear  of  .the  vulgar  con- 
ceit and  self  -  assertion  of  most  so-called 
clever  children.  Her  face  was  rather  French 
in  type ;  long  and  dark,  with  large  oval  eyes 
and  vivid  scarlet  lips;  and  in  her  earlier 
years  she  had  a  tendency  to  the  use  of 
French  idioms  in  her  speech.  For  the  rest, 
she  was  good-humored,  cheerful,  neat,  and 
possessed  a  flavor  and  accent  of  her  own. 
Her  very  dress,  without  being  conspicuous, 
could  only  have  been  worn  by  herself,  and 
she  attracted  a  half-amused,  half-pleased 
attention  wherever  she  went.  Such  atten- 
tion never  disconcerted  her;  she  was  not 
born  for  seclusion,  and  the  eye  of  the  world 
had  no  terrors  for  her.  There  was  a  touch 


GAETH. 


of  worldly  wisdom  in  her  composition, which, 
as  often  as  it  came  to  the  surface,  had  an 
indescribably  piquant  effect.  Her  voice  was 
endowed  with  a  certain  soothing  or  caress- 
ing intonation,  employed  only  upon  occa- 
sion, but  which  might  have  flattered  an  icicle 
or  coaxed  a  flint. 

But  she  was  not  quite  so  popular  with 
the  boys  and  girls  as  with  the  grown  folks. 
In  fact,  most  girls  of  her  own  age  disliked 
her.  Madge  never  was  guilty  of  any  of  those 
intimate,  effusive,  mysterious,  whispering, 
anti-masculine,  girl  friendships,  which  are 
less  rare  a  sight  than  might  be  expected,  in 
view  of  the  wealth  of  sentiment  pervading 
them.  She  could  afford  to  do  without  them 
because  of  her  undeniable  ability  to  beguile 
the  heart  of  any  boy  in  Urmsworth.  A  boy 
might  distrust  her  when  he  was  not  in  her 
company ;  he  might  say  bitter  things  of  her 
behind  her  back ;  he  might  even  warn  other 
boys  that,  she  was  a  flirt;  nevertheless,  to 
spend  half  an  hour  at  her  side  was  to  forget 
all  his  doubts  and  to  abjure  all  his  hard  | 
speeches.  She  was  so  naive,  so  frank,  so  con- 
fiding, and  so  entertaining,  that  it  was  not 
in  ordinary  boyhood  to  resist  her.  If  she 
were  a  coquette,  coquetry  was  as  natural  to 
her  as  plain  faces  or  slow  wits  are  to  other 
young  ladies,  and  perhaps  she  was  no  more 
to  blame  for  her  failing  than  they  for  theirs. 

Concerning  this  side  of  Madge's  life, 
Garth  knew  nothing.  He  regarded  her  as  a 
thing  apart ;  and  without  a  bit  of  self-con- 
ceit it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  any 
third  person  could  come  between  them  two. 
The  sacredness  which  invested  her  in  his 
eyes  must  impress  itself  upon  others  as  well ; 
but  he  alone  could  ever  be  privileged  to  do 
Ler  homage.  Unworthy  of  her  though  he 
might  be,  Providence  had  made  her  no  other 
mate ;  the  mystic  thread  of  destiny  had 
united  her  star  to  his  earth,  and  not  to  an- 
other's. The  trifling  circumstance  that  he 
had  never  exchanged  a  single  unconvention- 
al or  sentimental  word  with  the  mistress  of 
his  soul  could  have,  of  course,  no  influence 
on  his  convictions.  Like  all  visionaries,  he 
liked  his  dreams  better  than  facts ;  for  facts 
are  apt  to  make  fun  of  visionaries.  Madge 
was  a  palpable  little  fact,  and  no  doubt  she 
would  have  made  fun  of  Garth,  if  she  could 


have  peeped  into  his  mind  at  this  epoch. 
But,  fortunately  for  the  loves  and  friendships 
of  mankind,  such  insights  are  seldom  pos- 
sible. The  friend  cannot  read  his  friend's 
heart,  even  when  the  latter  desires  to  open 
it  to  his  perusal ;  nor  can  the  lover  reveal 
himself  to  his  mistress,  however  great  their 
mutual  good -will.  "We  are  mysteries  to 
ourselves  and  to  one  another ;  the  last  secret 
of  our  natures  is  still  withheld  from  us, 
lest  we  abuse  it. 

It  had  for  many  years  been  the  practice 
of  the  Urmsworth  school-children  to  picnic 
every  Michaelmas  in  a  certain  woodland 
tract  some  three  miles  up  the  mill-stream. 
It  was  a  romantic  spot — a  natural  landscape 
garden,  beautifully  diversified.  The  journey 
thither  was  made  in  farm-wagons,  hay-carts, 
on  foot  or  on  horseback,  with  laughter,  sing- 
ing, and  jollity;  the  day  was  spent  as  hap- 
pily as  are  most  fete-days,  and  the  home  re- 
turn as  much  resembled  the  allegoric  pict- 
ures of  the  "  Triumph  of  Autumn"  as  real 
life  can  be  expected  to  resemble  unreal. 

Old  Parson  Graeme  had  been  the  origi- 
nator of  these  junketings,  and  was  wont  to 
be  the  most  uproarious  of  the  junketers ; 
his  stentorian  "  Haw,  haw,  haw  !  "  being  al- 
ways the  nucleus  of  the  fun  ;  and  the  picnic 
without  the  parson  would  have  been  like 
autumn  stripped  of  its  autumnal  leaves.  No 
such  deprivation  had  yet  occurred,  and  the 
reverend  patriarch,  though  now  in  his  eighty- 
fifth  year,  was  almost  as  hearty  and  full  as 
jolly  as  at  any  time  during  the  last  quarter  of 
a  century.  Much  as  he  enjoyed  the  diver- 
sion, however,  one  thing  was  yet  wanting 
to  complete  his  satisfaction,  and  that  was 
Garth's  presence  at  the  picnic  along  with 
the  rest.  To  be  brought  face  to  face  with 
boys  and  girls  of  his  own  age  was,  in  the 
good  gentleman's  opinion,  the  only  cure  for 
his  grandson's  shyness,  indolence,  taciturni- 
ty, and  other  failings.  But  Garth  had  thus 
far  steadily  declined  to  join  himself  with  th? 
revelers,  and,  Cuthbert  refusing  to  interfere, 
the  parson  had  year  after  year  been  fain  to 
digest  his  disappointment.  But  year  after 
year  he  renewed  the  attack,  not  so  much,  at 
last,  in  expectation  of  success,  as  from  a 
conscientious  resolve  to  do  his  duty  in  the 
matter.  Accordingly,  when  the  present  Mich- 


MADGE. 


33 


aelraas-tide  came  round,  he  found  an  op- 
portunity to  collar  Garth  in  the  •  barn-yard, 
where  he  was  feeding  the  hens,  and  ad- 
dressed him  as  follows : 

"  Grandson,  now  listen  to  me.  You're 
fiftean  years  old  now,  or  pretty  near  it. 
Well,  that's  a  pretty  good  age  for  a  boy. 
But  I'm  nearly  six  times  as  old  as  you,  and 
1  ought  to  know  what's  best  for  you." 

Here  the  parson  made  a  sort  of  oratori- 
cal pause,  clearing  his  throat  and  raising  his 
finger  to  begin  his  exordium  in  earnest. 
But  Garth  looked  up  from  his  hens  and 
asked  : 

"Do  you  want  me  to  go  to  the  picnic 
this  year,  grandpapa  ?  " 

"Ay,  lad,  that  I  do.  What — will  you 
go?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Garth,  looking  down  at 
his  hens  again,  "I  am  going." 

The  parson  could  scarcely  believe  his 
ears,  so  wholly  unexpected  was  this  spon- 
taneous compliance.  After  a  pause  of 
astonishment,  he  laid  his  mighty  hand  on 
the  boy's  shoulder  and  bellowed  out : 

"  Recollect — you've  promised  it.  No 
backing  out !  Well,  you're  a  good  lad,  and 
in  future  years  you'll  look  back  on  next 
Saturday  as  the  date  of  your  first  real  start 
in  life.  You've  only  been  playing  till  now. 
You're  a  good  lad,  and  I  hope  to  see  you 
graduate  at  Bowdoin  College,  as  I  saw  your 
father  before  you.  But  mind  yon,  now — 
no  backing  out,  eh  ?  You'll  keep  your 
word  ? " 

"  I  shall  always  keep  my  word,  grand- 
papa," said  Garth,  gravely;  and  walked  dig- 
nifiedly  away,  his  hens  following  him. 

The  parson,  however,  was  much  gratified 
at  the  lad's  conversion,  which  he  ascribed 
to  his  own  eloquence  and  perseverance. 
But  the  truth  of  the  matter  was  this:  he 
had  consented  to  go  to  the  picnic  because 
Madge  had  previously  asked  him  to  do  so. 
They  had  met  in  the  forest-path  that  very 
morning;  Garth  had  been  too  much  agi- 
tated to  attempt  escape,  and  even  she  was 
so  much  taken  aback  as  to  say  the  first  thing 
which  came  into  her  head  : 

"  Are  you  coming  to  the  picnic  next 
Saturday,  Mr.  Garth  ?  " 

"  I  didn't—  If  you  tell  me  to !  " 
3 


Mr.  Garth's  heart  was  beating  hard  ;  but 
no  knight  that  he  could  remember  had  ever 
refused  a  boon  to  his  lady-love. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  must  come !  "  exclaimed 
she,  with  a  sparkling  smile. 

She  thought  this  strong-looking  young 
Urmson  hoy,  with  his  flushed  cheeks,  wild 
hair,  and  glowing  eyes,  was  altogether  as 
nice  as  anybody  she  knew. 

"  But  how  strange  he  is !  "  she  murmured 
to  herself,  as  Garth  bowed  his  head  and 
hurried  away  to  ponder  his  incredible  ad- 
venture in  deepest  solitude.  "  Sam  Kineo 
would  not  so  have  run  away  from  me — I  am 
sure  of  it.  Garth  looks  like  him  a  little; 
only  Sam's  hair  is  straighter,  and  his  fore- 
head less  high.  And  Sam  is  more  polite. 
But  I  like  Garth  ;  I  will  be  kind  to  him  at 
the  picnic ;  and  then  Sam  will  be  fierce,  but 
Garth  can  be  fierce  too,  I  think." 

This  Sam  Kineo  was  a  half-breed  Indian 
— a  black-haired,  swarthy,  active  fellow, 
with  a  quick,  shining  eye.  He  was  ac- 
counted the  best  runner,  skater,  and  hunter, 
in  the  neighborhood.  He  was  about  a  year 
older  than  Garth,  and  tall  of  his  age.  He 
had  first  appeared  at  Urmsworth  ten  years 
before,  when  an  Indian  woman,  who  had 
carried  him  through  the  wintry  wilderness 
on  her  back,  sank  down  at  the  parson's 
door,  exhausted  with  the  weary  anguish  of 
a  broken  knee.  She  told  a  romantic  story 
about  the  seduction  of  a  daughter  by  a  faith- 
less white  man,  of  a  consequent  tragedy, 
and  of  her  own  flight  northward  with  the 
child.  She  was  kindly  cared  for  by  the 
hospitable  minister,  and  the  child  was  taken 
in  charge  and  taught  the  catechism,  and 
afterward  put  to  school.  He  was  bright 
enough,  but  averse  from  steady  work ;  or, 
as  the  schoolmaster  put  it,  he  was  "  deficient 
in  application  rather  than  in  native  intelli- 
gence." 

The  Indian  woman,  who  was  known  as 
Nikomis,  took  np  her  abode  in  a  wigwam 
on  the  borders  of  the  forest,  where  she 
practised  medicine  and  popular  necromancy, 
and  was  esteemed  one  of  the  lions  of  the 
place.  Sam,  who  lived  with  her,  was  at  the 
age  of  thirteen  apprenticed  to  a  gunsmith. 
He  accommodated  himself  to  the  social  life 
of  the  village  with  a  facility  that  belonged 


GARTH. 


to  certain  aspects  of  his  character,  and  soon 
became  popular  at  dances,  sleighing-parties, 
and  such-like  amusements.  He  was  a  hand- 
some fellow,  and  his  half  tamed  cleverness, 
physical  powers,  and  mysterious  origin, 
combined  to  lend  him  a  good  deal  of  pres- 
tige in  some  people's  eyes — Madge's  among 
others.  She  was  not  indifferent  to  physical 
attractions,  and  liked  romantic  irregularity. 
Garth  and  Sam  were  acquainted,  after  a 
rough  fashion  of  their  own.  They  knew 
each  other's  names,  had  certain  similarities 
of  taste  and  knowledge,  communicated  with 
each  other  mainly  by  signs,  and  often  went 
on  hunting  expeditions  together.  Sam  sur- 
passed Garth  in  the  instinct  and  sagacity 
due  to  his  Indian  strain;  yet  Garth,  with 
the  higher  part  of  his  nature  omitted,  might 
have  rivaled  Sam  more  nearly  than  was  the 
case  as  things  stood.  The  intimacy  of  the 
two  boys  never  got  beyond  a  superficial 
companionship  ;  any  attempts  to  push  it  fur- 
ther would  only  have  brought  about  a  mutual 
repulsion.  Sam,  however,  had  sharper 
eyes  than  Garth,  and  was  accustomed 
to  study  the  latter  much  more  keenly  than 
Garth  studied  him.  Whether  he  gained 
anything  from  his  scrutiny  is  open  to  ques- 
tion ;  at  all  events,  he  probably  fancied  that 
he  understood  his  companion  more  thor- 
oughly than  in  reality  he  did.  But,  taking 
into  consideration  the  character  of  these 
two  boys,  their  respective  attitudes  toward 
Madge,  and  her  disposition  toward  each  of 
them,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  a  meeting  be- 
tween the  three  might  have  interesting  re- 
sults. 


CHAPTER  XL 

TIP   A   TREE. 

ON  picnic  morning  Garth  was  up  early, 
though  he  had  slept  ill  during  the  night. 
Fantastic  visions  of  the  morrow  had  flitted 
through  his  brain,  and  tossed  him  in  flushed 
discomfort  from  one  side  of  his  bed  to  the 
other.  He  had  pursued  a  phantom  Garth 
through  all  manner  of  grotesque  adventures, 
and  was  distressed  to  observe  that  the  spe'c- 
tre  always  contrived  to  fail,  by  an  inch  or  a 
moment,  of  creditably  acquitting  himself. 


Wishing  that  Garth  incarnate  might  do 
better,  the  boy  let  himself  quietly  out  of 
his  bedroom-window  at  sunrise,  and  struck 
oif  through  the  awakening  woods  toward 
the  picnic-grounds.  He  knew  that  some 
hours  must  elapse  before  the  party  would 
arrive,  but  he  meant  to  employ  this  spare 
time  in  thoroughly  reconnoitring  the  scene 
of  the  coming  festival,  and  trying  to  accus- 
tom himself  to  the  idea  of  facing  so  many 
people  ;  for,  although  he  might  know  every 
individual  in  the  company,  Garth  dreaded 
confronting  them  in  mass.  Assuming,  as  ho 
did,  that  every  one  would  make  a  point  of 
observing  his  slightest  manifestation,  and 
taking  it  for  granted  that  he  must  appear  to 
other  eyes  at  least  as  transparent  as  he  did 
to  his  own,  it  was  not  strange  that  his  cour- 
age sometimes  misgave  him.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  was  Madge — or  Miss  Danver,  as 
he  must  begin  to  call  her,  since  their  ac- 
quaintance was  about  to  emerge  from  fairy- 
land into  the  every-day  world — whom  to 
meet  he  knew  not  whether  he  most  rejoiced 
or  feared.  To  meet  her,  to  be  near  her,  per- 
haps to  converse  with  her — oh,  to  think  of 
it !  After  all,  was  not  the  real  world  a  yet 
more  marvelous  place  than  fairy-land  ? 

As  he  walked  on,  however,  brushed  Ly 
the  leaves  which  had  scarcely  begun  to  be 
autumnal,  and  cheered  by  the  lusty  enthu- 
siasm of  the  morning  sunshine,  his  fears 
dwindled,  and  he  felt  brave  enough  to  look 
his  joys  in  the  face.  They  were  all  Madge  ! 
The  vistas  of  the  wood,  the  glimpses  of 
heaven  overhead,  the  tonic  breath  of  the 
pines,  the  stirring  of  the  breeze,  were  beauti- 
ful because  of  her.  He  so  delighted  in  these 
reflections  and  reminders  of  his  mistress 
that  the  way  did  not  seem  long  nor  the  time 
wearisome  ere  she  should  appear  in  her 
proper  person.  An  older  or  more  expe- 
rienced lover  would  have  found  everything 
irksome  save  the  actual  beloved  presence, 
but  Garth  knew  as  yet  neither  the  sweet- 
ness nor  the  disappointment  of  living  hands 
and  lips.  He  looked  back,  nevertheless, 
with  long-drawn  breaths  and  reddenings  of 
the  cheek,  at  his  several  encounters  with 
Madge  thus  far,  and  especially  to  that  mem- 
orable evening  when  she  had  sat  behind  him 
on  horseback,  her  small  arm  round  his  waist, 


UP   A   TREE. 


35 


and  her  face  so  near,  that,  when  he  turned  J 
to  answer  his  grandfather,  stalking  heside 
them,  he  could  feel  her  warm  breath  on  his 
cheek.  Ah !  sighed  Garth,  would  they  ever 
ride  thus  again  ?  At  all  events,  he  was  re- 
solved on  making  unheard-of  advances  to- 
day. He  would  go  up  to  her  as  soon  as  she 
arrived,  and  take  her  by  the  hand  in  bidding 
her  good-morning.  He  would  sit  near  her 
at  dinner-time,  and  persuade  her  to  share 
the  contents  of  his  luncheon-basket.  He 
would  pluck  off  the  burs  from  the  chestnuts 
for  her ;  and  in  the  games  and  trials  of 
strength  and  skill  which  were  to  occupy  the 
forenoon,  he  would  win  every  prize  for  her 
sake;  even  Sam  Kineo  should  not  prevail 
against  him. 

After  proceeding  a  mile  or  two  on  his 
way,  he  came  to  a  spot  where  the  path 
branched  off  in  two  directions.  Here,  atnid 
a  cluster  of  moist  and  mossy  stones,  a  spring 
bubbled  up  and  flowed  across  the  track  and 
onward  through  the  roots  of  the  trees  into 
the  forest.  The  spring  was  overshadowed 
by  a  young  rock-maple,  whose  foliage  had 
forced  the  season,  most  of  it  being  already 
yellow,  and  branches  here  and  there  clus- 
tered with  clear  red  leaves  which  seemed 
adrip  with  living  blood.  The  boy  threw 
himself  down  to  drink  of  the  cold  water, 
staring  the  while  at  the  mysterious  bubbling 
commotion  at  the  sandy  bottom  of  the 
spring,  as  seen  through  the  reflection  of  his 
o\vn  brown  face.  Some  time,  he  thought, 
in  pursuance  of  the  custom  of  pious  knights 
of  old,  when  they  had  had  their  fill  of  blood- 
shed, it  would  be  well  to  erect  on  this  spot 
a  sort  of  temple  or  shrine  consecrated  to 
lovely  Madge  Danver,  and  affording  her  and 
him  a  place  of  meeting,  or  of  refuge,  if  need 
were.  Love  and  peace  should  reign  here ; 
all  deeds  and  thoughts  should  be  as  pure  and 
kindly  as  this  beneficent  spring.  Urmhurst 
had  been  built  upon  a  grave,  and  its  foun- 
dation had  been  laid  in  strife  and  blood  ;  but 
Garth  would  raise  his  edifice  on  innocent 
ground,  and  so  keep  his  life  blameless.  The 
plan  so  took  his  fancy  that,  by  way  of  se- 
curing the  site  against  foreign  appropriation, 
he  pulled  out  his  knife  and  cut  his  own  and 
Madge's  initials  deep  in  the  bark  of  the  rock- 
maple,  and  drew  a  line  round  them.  Pleased 


with  the  conceit,  which  was  as  original  with 
him  as  with  the  forefather  of  all  lovers, 
Garth  put  his  knife  in  liis  pocket,  and  re- 
sumed his  way  to  the  picnic-ground. 

As  he  neared  it,  and  finally  looked  upon 
the  place  where  this  assemblage  of  living 
and  palpable  human  beings  was  actually  to 
appear  within  an  hour  or  two,  the  boy's  ap- 
prehensions in  a  measure  returned,  and  he 
was  glad  he  had  allowed  himself  space  to 
compose  his  mind  and  fortify  his  resolution 
for  the  ordeal.  He  rambled  hither  and  thither 
about  the  rocky  and  wildly  picturesque  glen, 
peopling  it  with  imaginary  picnickers,  and 
endeavoring  to  make  himself  at  home  with 
them;  while  a  shadowy  Madge  seemed  ever 
at  his  side.  At  length  he  came  to  an  enor- 
mous chestnut-tree,  standing  near  the  upper 
verge  of  the  tract,  and  stretching  its  mighty 
limbs  over  a  diameter  of  one  hundred  feet. 
The  ground  beneath  was  strewed  with  clus- 
ters of  the  burred  nuts,  and  thousands  more 
hung  between  the  thick  leaves  overhead. 
After  trying  his  teetli  for  a  while  upon  the 
former,  Garth  began  to  turn  his  eyes  tip- 
ward,  and  consider  the  practicability  of  a 
climb. 

Swarming  was  out  of  the  question ;  the 
chestnut  was  eighteen  feet  in  girth  ;  but  there 
were  twigs  sprouting  here  and  there  from 
the  lower  trunk,  and  a  few  promising  knots 
and  clefts  which  might  be  of  use.  Once  ten 
feet  from  the  ground  and  the  lowest  of  the 
main  limbs  could  be  reached,  and  thence  was 
a  broad,  winding  staircase  to  the  tiptop.  It 
was  a  very  tall  tree,  and  no  doubt  com- 
manded a  large  view  :  perhaps  he  could  see 
the  picnic-party  on  their  way  hither  from 
the  village.  This  last  thought  bound  him 
to  the  attempt,  and  forgetting  that  enough 
time  had  already  passed  to  allow  of  their  be- 
ing very  near,  he  forthwith  set  about  it.  It 
was  a  slow  and  arduous  job,  and  after  work- 
ing hard  for  ten  minutes,  and  ascending 
about  eight  feet,  it  became  necessary  either 
to  trust  his  weight  to  a  certain  dead  twig,  or 
to  come  down  again.  Garth  paused  to  delib- 
erate. In  the  midst  of  his  pause  a  strange 
sound  fell  upon  his  ear — a  throbbing,  redu- 
plicating, long-drawn  note,  dying  away  in  a 
cadence,  which  would  have  sounded  melan- 
choly to  one  ignorant  (as  Garth  was  not)  that 


GARTH. 


it   was  the   stentorian  laughter  of  Parson 
Graeme  echoing  afar  through  the  woods. 

The  party  must  be  close  at  hand,  and  the 
climber,  following  his  first  and  most  natural 
impulse,  committed  himself  to  the  twig, 
which  cracked,  indeed,  but  did  not  break, 
and  helped  him  to  a  main  limb  of  the  tree. 
He  rapidly  clambered  upward,  and  before 
the  vanguard  of  the  revelers  had  come  in 
sight,  he  was  safe  among  the  topmost 
branches,  whence  he  could  overlook  the 
whole  ground,  excepting  only  the  space  im- 
mediately beneath  him,  but  was  himself  in- 
visible from  all  points. 

By  the  time  he  had  recovered  his  breath 
and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face, 
the  picnickers  were  defiling  with  jollity  into 
the  glen,  the  gigantic  parson  in  front,  with 
Madge's  hand  in  his,  Sam  Kineo  not  far  off, 
upward  of  a  score  of  grown  people  and  chil- 
dren following  on  behind,  and,  last  of  all, 
an  old  hay-cart  drawn  by  a  venerable  white 
steed,  that  had  retired  from  active  life  and 
reserved  himself  for  festive  occasions  like 
the  present.  The  cart  was  beladen  with 
provision-baskets,  in  charge  of  three  or  four 
elderly  ladies,  whose  years  entitled  them  to 
a  ride,  though  it  is  doubtful  whether  the 
jolting  they  got  was  not  a  sharper  trial  of 
endurance  than  a  three-mile  walk  would 
have  been. 

Garth  had  climbed  his  tree  involuntarily, 
so  to  speak;  but  it  now  occurred  to  him 
that  the  opportunity  of  overlooking  his  com- 
pany and  familiarizing  himself  with  their 
individual  and  aggregate  aspect,  before  de- 
scending and  mixing  with  them  on  an  equal 
footing,  was  worth  improving.  He  kept  his 
perch  accordingly,  and  held  his  peace,  and 
enjoyed  the  aroma  of  affairs  like  a  superior 
being,  without  having  his  appreciation  dulled 
by  a  personal  share  in  them. 

The  cart  was  drawn  up  beneath  Garth's 
very  chestnut,  and  'the  venerable  steed  was  | 
relieved  of  his  harness  and  turned  out  to 
amuse  himself,  while  the  elderly  ladies  were 
severally  lifted  down  by  the  gallant  parson, 
who  was  provided  with  a  flattering  witticism 
for  each  one  of  them.  The  next  thing  was 
to  take  out  the  provision-baskets  and  select 
a  site  for  the  table. 

"  Why  not  have  it   here  beneath   the 


tree  ? "  demanded  the  ponderous  tones  of 
the  reverend  Titan. 

But  somebody  objected  that  the  chestnut 
burs  would  render  sitting  down  impossible ; 
and  therefore,  after  some  discussion  and 
much  mirth,  the  place  was  fixed  a  few  rods 
off,  under  the  southern  side  of  a  lichened 
rock:  entirely  with  Garth's  approval,  since 
he  could  now  see  all  that  went  on,  without 
overhearing  conversation  perhaps  not  in- 
tended for  his  ears.  Whatever  his  grand- 
father said  he  must,  indeed,  make  up  his 
mind  to  be  privy  to ;  the  old  gentleman 
would  have  been  audible  at  the  top  of  a  mi- 
mosa. But  then  his  grandfather  never  talked 
secrets. 

'•Xow,  boys  and  girls,"  bellowed  he, 
having  left  the  elderly  ladies  to  unpack  the 
baskets  and  make  dilatory  preparations  for 
the  feast — "  now,  then,  we  must  have  our 
games.  What  shall  we  begin  with  ?  Speak 
up,  somebody.  Boys,  you  ought  to  give  the 
ladies  the  first  choice.  Or  what  do  you  say 
to  a  boy  and  a  girl  being  chosen  to  decide  it, 
between  themselves,  for  all  of  us?  Very 
well ;  who  shall  they  be  ?  What  do  you  say 
to — let  me  see — to  Madge  Danver  and  Garth 
Urmson?" 

Garth  started,  and  dropped  a  chestnut. 
Was  he  discovered  ?  and  did  he  hear  his 
name  coupled  with  hers  ?  Oh,  he  must  come 
down ! 

But  hark  again  !  "  Why,  where  is  Garth? 
— not  here?  no  one  seen  him?  That's  odd 
— that's  odd.  He  told  me  he'd  be  here. 
Well ! — however,  it's  early  still ;  he'll  come 
yet,  depend  upon  it. — What  did  you  say,  my 
dear?  "  to  Madge.  Garth  did  not  catch  her 
rejoinder,  but  it  seemed  to  tickle  the  minis- 
ter, whose  mood  changed  from  solicitude  to 
mirth.  "Ho!  ho!  ho!  Oh,  very  well,  if 
that's  the  case,  we  needn't  feel  anxious  about 
him ;  he'll  come  sooner  or  later.  I  thought 
it  was  all  on  my  account — ha!  ha!  ha! — 
Well,  boys  and  girls,  we  can't  wait  for  him, 
so  whom  shall  we  choose  in  his  place  ?  Let 
me  see — what  do  you  say  to  Sam  Kineo  ? " 

It  was  a  foible  of  the  good  minister  to 
be  most  autocratic  under  the  guise  of  defer- 
ring to  the  opinion  of  others ;  so  now,  while 
appearing  to  choose  Madge  and  Sam  by  ap- 
peal to  the  popular  will,  he  in  reality  (though 


UP  A   TREE. 


37 


unawares)  pleased  no  one  except  himself 
find  liis  nominees.  The  girls  were  affronted 
that  the  "Frenchified  little  thing"  should 
be  put  over  them,  while  the  boys  were  as 
little  flattered  to  play  second  fiddle  to  an 
Indian  half-breed.  However,  there  was  no 
disputing  the  minister's  vote,  and  Sam  and 
Madge  were  chosen,  if  not  unanimously,  at 
least  without  a  dissentient  voice.  They 
walked  apart  mysteriously,  and  consulted. 
There  was  not  much  to  consult  about ;  but 
still  Garth's  eyes  followed  the  pair  with  sin- 
gular anxiety,  and  he  was  continually  won- 
dering how  Sam  felt,  and  imagining  how  he 
himself  would  feel  in  Sam's  place,  and  be- 
rating himself  for  having  been  out  of  the 
way  at  the  critical  moment.  Not  but  Sam 
carried  it  off  well  enough  :  indeed,  Garth 
could  not  help  acknowledging  that  the  half- 
breed's  behavior  was  more  easy  and  gallant 
than  his  own  would  have  dared  to  be  in  the 
circumstances.  And  Madge — Miss  Danver 
— seemed  charmingly  affable.  For  a  moment 
Garth  questioned  whether  she  would  have 
been  so  affable  to  him  ! 

Nevertheless,  he  was  not  jealous :  he 
had  too  much  refinement  and  too  little  ex- 
perience for  that.  Madge  was  gracious  as 
a  queen  might  be ;  and  Sam's  self-possession 
was  that  of  a  courtier  who  knows  his  place. 
With  Garth  it  would  be  different ;  he  must 
meet  the  queen  only  as  her  destined  lover ; 
and  on  those  high  terms  it  was  no  marvel  if 
the  dapper  forms  of  society  should  hitch  and 
stammer  a  little  at  first.  He  was  not  jeal- 
ous, for  the  idea  that  Madge  would  receive 
the  advances  of  any  one  but  himself,  or  that 
any  one  except  himself  would  venture  to 
make  advances  to  her,  never  entered  his 
head.  But  he  could  not  with  equanimity 
behold  so  much  sweetness  thrown  away  on 
Sam  Kineo — sweetness  from  which  only 
this  unlucky  chestnut  debarred  him.  What 
had  possessed  him  to  expend  so  much  pains 
in  climbing  out  of  the  reach  of  his  own  hap- 
piness ?  Why  had  he  not  been  content  to 
remain  on  the  same  footing  with  the  rest 
of  the  world,  and  take  his  equal  chances? 
Solitude  and  seclusion  are  good  in  their 
way,  but  a  body  among  the  clouds  while  the 
soul  languishes  on  earth  Garth  found  a 
most  unprofitable  predicament. 


Meanwhile  the  committee  had  decided 
upon  their  programme,  and  the  games  be- 
gan. Garth,  sitting  disconsolate  like  a  de- 
serted idol  in  his  niche,  was  astonished  to 
see  what  a  good  time  boys  and  girls  had  to- 
gether. He  had  always  taken  it  for  granted 
that  enjoyment  was  in  a  direct  ratio  to  iso- 
lation ;  but  here  numbers  seemed  to  be  the 
very  zest  of  the  fun.  How  they  laughed, 
shouted,  ran  about,  and  laughed  again ! 
What  a  delightful  game  blindman's-buff 
was,  and  hunt-the-slipper,  and  kitchen-fur- 
niture, and  pass-the-ring !  Garth  joined  in 
every  laugh,  and  nearly  fell  out  of  his  tree 
in  the  heedless  sympathy  with  which  he  fol- 
lowed the  movements  of  the  players.  How 
lovely  Madge  looked !  how  handy  and  clever 
was  Sam  Kineo!  A  sigh  surprised  Garth 
in  the  midst  of  his  enjoyment.  What  right 
had  he  to  laugh?  he  was  not  playing.  He 
was  like  a  forlorn  ghost  vainly  attempting 
to  partake  of  earthly  pleasures.  He  was  re- 
solved, if  once  he  got  his  foot  on  solid  earth 
again,  to  give  up  tree-climbing.  Meanwhile 
it  was  plain  that  he  must  stay  where  he  was 
so  long  as  the  picnic  lasted.  To  come  down 
now  would  be  indeed  a  come-down,  and 
Garth's  dignity  and  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
alike  forbade  it. 

By-and-by  the  girls  were  tired,  and  there 
was  a  pause.  The  minister,  who  had  con- 
tributed more  noise  to  the  games  than  any 
of  the  players,  now  revived  the  topic  of 
Garth's  absence,  observing  that  he  the  more 
regretted  it  since,  in  the  trials  of  strength 
and  skill  which  were  to  come  off  between 
the  boys,  he  was  certain  that  his  grandson 
would  have  borne  a  distinguished  part.  But 
at  this  Sam  Kineo  ventured  to  turn  up  his 
nose,  intimating  that  it  might  be  just  as  well 
for  Garth's  reputation  to  keep  out  of  the 
way.  Sam,  in  fact,  was  generally  admitted 
to  be  a  formidable  athlete ;  he  was  a  year 
older  than  the  minister's  grandson,  and,  had 
the  two  been  matched  against  each  other, 
the  odds  must  have  been  in  the  Indian's 
favor.  Garth,  nevertheless,  cramped  and  im- 
patient in  his  tree,  would  gladly  have  de- 
scended to  try  his  strength,  had  Sam's 
prowess  been  double  what  it  was.  In 
Madge's  presence,  too,  he  could  scarcely 
have  failed  of  success — so  he  fancied ;  and 


38 


GARTH. 


now  lie  was  to  lose  this  signal  opportunity 
of  proving  himself  worthy  of  her  favor.  Oh 
for  a  bout  at  wrestling  with  Sara  Kineo  ! 

Perhaps,  to  own  the  truth,  something 
more  than  ordinary  rivalry  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  that  wish.  Sam  seemed  to  be  eating 
Garth's  cake  and  his  own  too.  How  easy  it 
would  be  quietly  to  drop  down  in  the  midst ! 
and  yet  how  much  harder  it  was  to  climb 
down  against  moral  obstacles  than  up  against 
material  ones,  and  what  a  different  kind  of 
agility  was  requisite ! 

After  a  sufficient  rest,  the  minister,  aban- 
doning all  hopes  of  his  young  relative's  ap- 
pearance, gave  orders  for  the  athletic  sports 
to  begin.  Madge  was  probably  the  only 
person  who  (for  her  own  private  reasons) 
shared  the  old  gentleman's  disappointment 
at  Master  Urmson's  defection.  She  had  laid 
plans  which  promised  to  bring  about  an  ex- 
citing little  episode  or  two ;  but  Garth  and 
Sam  were  both  involved  in  the  scheme,  and 
its  consequent  failure  made  Madge  rather 
captious.  She  was  piqued  at  the  former's 
implicit  slight,  but  this  did  not  prevent  her 
taking  his  part  against  the  latter,  who  prob- 
ably found  her  less  disposed  to  encourage 
his  attentions  than  had  Garth  been  on  the 
ground. 

Thus,  when  Sam  jumped  higher,  ran 
faster,  leaped  farther,  and  wrestled  better 
than  any  of  his  opponents,  Madge  only 
shrugged  her  little  shoulders,  and  would 
have  him  to  understand  that  matters  would 
have  fallen  out  otherwise  if  Garth  Urmson 
had  been  there.  Poor  Sam  could  only  scowl 
and  secretly  wish  to  tear  his  rival  limb  from 
limb;  but  then  Madge  would  look  so  irre- 
sistible that  wrath  was  perforce  merged  in 
adulation. 

As  for  Garth,  he  would  have  been  glad 
to  be  free  of  his  leafy  prison  at  the  risk  of 
being  tomahawked  and  scalped  as  soon  as 
he  reached  the  earth.  Mental  irritation 
apart,  his  physical  discomfort  was  most  dol- 
orous ;  he  had  tried  every  practicable  posi- 
tion again  and  again,  and  not  one  was  toler- 
able. The  forenoon  dragged  past ;  there 
was  a  contra-dance,  in  which  Madge  and 
Sam  were  partners;  then  dinner  was  an- 
nounced by  the  elderly  ladies,  and  intermina- 
bly eaten,  under  favor  of  a  stentorian  grace 


from  Parson  Graeme;  and  it  was  Sam,  not 
Garth,  who  kept  Madge  supplied  with  deli- 
cacies. After  dinner  the  minister  leaned 
back  against  the  rock  and  went  fast  asleep ; 
and  the  elderly  ladies,  when  they  had  fin- 
ished replacing  the  knives  and  forks  and 
table-ware  in  the  baskets,  crawled  under  the 
hay-cart,  and  followed  his  example. 

The  younger  part  of  the  company,  being 
thus  left  to  their  own  devices,  paired  off  and 
strolled  away,  each  couple  toward  a  differ- 
ent point  of  the  compass,  and  at  length  only 
Sam  and  Madge  remained.  Between  these 
two  there  seemed  to  be  some  misunderstand- 
ing, a  state  of  things  which  Garth  accepted 
more  philosophically  than  his  rival.  The 
latter,  after  several  ineffectual  attempts  to 
persuade  Madge  to  accompany  him,  loitered 
moodily  off  by  himself,  and  was  presently 
lost  to  sight  behind  a  clump  of  sombre  hem- 
locks. 

Madge  sat  still  for  a  while,  looking  up 
into  the  chestnut-tree,  apparently  lost  in 
thought ;  once  or  twice  Garth  could  almost 
believe  that  their  glances  met.  Bat  before 
he  could  decide  upon  the  propriety  of  then 
and  there  discovering  himself  to  the  mis- 
tress of  his  heart,  she  abruptly  arose,  tied 
on  her  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  beneath 
her  soft  little  chin,  and  walked  demurely 
away,  with  her  short  steps  and  erect  little 
figure.  The  direction  she  took,  though  not 
exactly  opposite  to  Sam's,  was  at  a  consid- 
erable angle  from  it.  Garth,  having  satisfied 
himself  that  whoever  was  not  asleep  was 
out  of  the  way,  descended  his  tree  as  fast  as 
his  stiffened  legs  would  let  him,  and  dropped 
to  the  ground  with  almost  a  shout  of  re- 
lief. 

At  last  he  was  once  more  his  own  mas- 
ter, the  owner  of  his  own  limbs,  motions, 
and  volitions;  he  had  learned  more  than 
one  wise  lesson  up  yonder  among  the  chest- 
nut-burs ;  he  had  pricked  his  fingers,  but  it 
was  his  fault  if  he  had  not  profited  by  a  few 
solid  kernels.  The  first  use  he  made  of  his 
wisdom  was  to  determine  on  pursuing 
Madge ;  but,  looking  about  him,  he  found 
the  aspect  of  the  country  so  much  altered 
from  his  new  point  of  view  as  to  put  him  in 
some  doubt  which  way  she  had  gone.  He 
paused  a  moment  to  listen.  It  was  a  silent 


FIGHTING. 


3;) 


afternoon,  the  loudest  noise  being  the  snor- 
ing of  his  grandfather,  which  was  reechoed 
in  a  fainter  key  from  beneath  the  hay-cart. 
Far  off  somewhere  a  boy  was  whistling  a 
tune  that  sounded  like  "  Yankee  Doodle." 
A  cat-bird  piped  from  an  alder-thicket  near 
at  hand.  From  another  direction  came  a 
distant  murmur  of  laughter.  But  there  was 
nothing  that  told  of  Madge ;  so,  having  re- 
considered his  bearings  as  accurately  as  pos- 
sible, the  sturdy  young  lover  set  forth,  and 
was  quickly  swallowed  up  in  the  inscrutable 
mazes  of  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FIGHTING. 

ABOUT  six  hours  later,  weary  in  body 
and  dejected  in  mind,  ragged,  hungry,  and 
thirsty,  Garth  emerged  at  the  cool  bubbling 
spring  amid  the  stones,  at  the  meeting  of 
the  ways ;  and  once  more  he  threw  himself 
at  length  beneath  the  crimson  maple  and 
drank  a  refreshing  draught.  He  had  not 
found  Madge,  neither  had  he  seen  a  human 
being  since  leaving  the  picnic-ground;  he 
had  wandered  on  preoccupied,  he  knew  not 
where ;  ever  surrounded  by  a  twilight  of 
trees ;  sometimes  fancying  he  heard  a  voice 
or  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  broad-brimmed 
straw  hat,  which  would  change  to  a  festoon 
of  moss  or  a  bird-note  as  he  approached.  He 
made  a  vast  detour  of  loneliness,  and  it  was 
not  till  he  came  upon  the  fountain,  and  saw 
in  the  moss  the  imprint  he  had  made  in  the 
morning,  that  he  realized  in  what  part  of 
the  world  he  was.  He  drank,  and  then 
seated  himself  upon  a  stone  to  meditate  over 
his  first  picnic. 

Hark !  was  not  that  the  minister's  laugh  ? 
some  faint  echo  of  it  seeming  to  come  from 
the  direction  of  the  village.  The  picnickers, 
then,  must  newly  have  passed  by ;  a  few 
minutes  earlier,  and  Garth  would  have  fallen 
in  with  them.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  resolved 
to  pursue  them,  and  put  to  the  proof  his 
late-learned  doctrine  of  the  value  of  society ; 
at  all  events,  to  clear  his  character  with  his 
grandfather  and  Madge — Miss  Danver;  to 
show  them  that  ho  had  kept  his  promise  in 


being  at  the  festival,  albeit  veiled  in  the  in- 
visibility of  a  chestnut-tree.  But  before  he 
had  advanced  two  steps  toward  putting 
these  good  resolutions  in  execution  he  heard 
a  foot-tramp  from  behind,  and,  turning,  be- 
held Sam  Kineo  hastening  toward  him  as  if 
from  the  picnic-ground.  Sam  looked  elate 
and  excited,  but  on  seeing  Garth  he  stopped 
in  surprise. 

'•Hallo,  hallo!"  said  he,  in  his  rapid 
way,  eying  the  other  all  over,  and  finally 
fixing  a  sharp  look  on  his  face.  "Where 
ha'  you  been,  Garth?  Been  lost?  Ha,  ha!  " 

"  Didn't  you  meet  her  either  ?  "  demand- 
ed Garth. 

"Meet  who?  What  d'you  know  about 
it  ?  '  Meet  her  either  ? '  what  are  you  talk- 
in'  about,  Garth?  You  weren't  at  th'  pic- 
nic ;  you  know  nothin'." 

"  I  was  in  the  chestnut-tree,"  said  Garth, 
reddening  a  little.  "  I  saw  Ma — Miss  Dan- 
ver—" 

Here  Sam  interrupted  him  with  a  laugh, 
the  undisguised  offensiveness  of  which  made 
Garth  redden  still  more.  Ha,  ha !  Tip  in  a 
tree  like  a  chipmunk !  "  Ha,  ha  I  'Fraid  to 
come  down,  fear  you'd  be  beaten  runnin', 
wrestlin',  jumpin'.  Ha!  very  sensible.  We 
didn't  want  you !  Madge  'ml  I  rather  be 
alone  together.  Ha,  ha !  " 

"Sam!  "  exclaimed  the  reverential  Garth, 
too  much  shocked  at  the  other's  light  men- 
tion of  the  adored  name  to  remember  that 
he  ought  to  be  angry. 

"Well,  well!"  rejoined  the  half-breed, 
coming  forward  a  step,  with  a  hectoring  air. 
He  threw  the  black  straight  hair  from  his 
face,  and  met  the  other's  eyes  with  a  keen, 
shining  glance.  He  was  certainly  a  hand- 
some lad,  as  well  as  an  active  and  well- 
grown  one ;  but  there  was  the  hardness  and 
superficiality  of  the  Indian  in  his  expression, 
and  just  now  a  savage  suggestiveness  in  the 
gleam  of  his  white  teeth. 

"D'you  think  she  likes  you,  eh?"  he 
continued,  rapidly ;  "  think  she  likes  you, 
Garth  Urmson  ?  I  tell  you  what,  she  likes 
nobody  but  mo.  She  loves  me,  Madge  does. 
Site's  my  girl.  You  better  not  interfere." 

"  Stop !  "  said  Garth,  in  a  low  tone. 
"  You  have  no  right — " 

There  was  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  which 


GAKTH. 


caught  Sam's  ear,  and  caused  him  to  make  a 
grave  mistake.  He  had  been  inclined  to 
pick  a  quarrel  from  the  first,  and  Garth's 
behavior  thus  far  had  rather  fostered  the 
inclination.  But  the  quaver  in  these  last 
words  appeared  to  Sam  to  be  due  to  fear, 
and  determined  him  to  proceed  to  extremi- 
ties at  once.  He  believed  himself  able  to 
give  Garth  a  thrashing,  and  there  was  more 
than  one  reason  why  it  was  desirable  he 
should  do  so.  He  threw  off  all  disguise. 

"  You  hold  your  tongue — you  Garth  ! 
Tell  me  I  have  no  right  ?  Ha !  ha !  I  kiss 
her  often  as  I  please ;  she  gives  me  half 
a  dozen  kisses,  puts  her  arms  round  my 
neck,  lets  me  carry  her  over  th'  brook ! 
Guess  I  have  a  right.  .  .  .  Hallo !  hallo  !  " 

Garth  had  waked  up  at  last,  though  this 
unexpected  torrent  of  blasphemy  (such  he 
considered  it)  had  made  him  powerless  for 
a  few  moments.  The  words  stung  and  ran- 
kled, and  seemed  to  blacken  the  day.  There 
could  be  no  adequate  punishment  for  them. 
Since  they  were  spoken,  all  innocence  and 
freshness  were  parched  and  blighted  out  of 
life.  Had  he  believed  them  true,  he  would 
have  wished  to  live  no  longer. 

But  he  held  them  falsest  of  the  false,  and 
he  felt  that  it  rested  with  him  to  inflict  what- 
ever punishment  was  possible.  That  Madge 
was  innocent,  that  her  lips  and  heart  were 
pure,  was  to  him  as  certain  as  that  she  ex- 
isted. Sam  had  lied  as  no  one  ever  lied  be- 
fore. To  be  so  wicked  must  bring  a  pun- 
ishment of  its  own,  but  it  was  none  the  less 
Garth's  duty  to  vindicate  Madge's  honor  to 
the  uttermost.  He  took  Sam  by  the  throat 
in  the  midst  of  his  blasphemies,  and  pushed 
him  backward  to  a  level  bit  of  turf  beside 
the  maple  -  tree.  Here  the  half  -  breed 
wrenched  himself  loose,  and  the  boys  faced 
each  other  in  silence  for  nearly  a  minute. 
Something  there  was  in  the  moulding  and 
play  of  their  features  at  this  juncture  which 
almost  amounted  to  a  resemblance,  each  to 
each.  The  lines  of  passion  are  much  alike 
in  all  faces. 

"  You  don't  deserve  to  live,"  said  Garth, 
at  length,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  and  with 
an  air  of  profound  solemnity. 

In  fact,  there  was  a  sternness  and  an  ab- 
sence of  flourish  in  Garth's  demeanor  which 


a  little  dashed  Sam's  spirits.  It  made  him 
feel  the  need  of  bending  his  every  physical 
and  mental  faculty  to  the  work  before  him. 
He  was  puzzled,  perhaps,  at  the  sudden 
change  in  Garth's  attitude  from  shrinking 
to  aggressive  ;  he  lacked  the  refined  insight 
which  might  sympathetically  have  fathomed 
the  cause  of  it.  He  could  easily  understand 
jealousy  on  his  rival's  part ;  but  of  such 
wrath  kindled  at  mere  wantonness  of  speech 
he  had  no  comprehension.  It  was  to  his 
disadvantage  that  he  had  not,  since  the  lof- 
tier passion  is  ever  the  more  potent  and  en- 
during. 

"  Now,  then,  what  do  you  want?  "  blus- 
tered he,  raising  his  voice. 

"  Fight !  "  whispered  Garth,  glowing, 
and  doubling  his  fists ;  and  the  very  atmos- 
phere seemed  to  grow  murky  and  heavy  with 
the  word. 

"  What  for  ?  "  demanded  Sam,  hesitating. 

Garth,  whose  every  bone  yearned  for 
battle,  could  hardly  command  his  voice  to 
speak.  "  Was  it  a  lie  ?  "  he  asked,  tremu- 
lously. 

"D'ye  mean  about  the  kissing?  You 
ask  her — " 

"  Fight !  or  I'll  kill  you,"  hissed  Garth  ; 
and  the  fight  began  on  the  instant. 

It  was  a  breathless,  fierce,  desperate  fight 
enough,  though  the  fighters  were  boys  fresh 
in  their  teens.  Not  a  scientific  fight  on 
either  side  :  there  were  no  rounds,  no  rules, 
no  courtesies.  There  was  no  noise  either, 
except  the  sound  of  the  blows,  and  the 
quick  gasping  for  breath,  and  the  soft  tram- 
pling on  the  turf.  There  is  a  concentration 
and  an  economy  about  affairs  of  this  kind 
which  are  lacking  in  most  other  business 
transactions ;  waste,  diffuseness,  is  suicidal. 

A  blackbird  happened  to  perch  on  the 
top  of  the  maple  at  the  moment  the  fight 
began,  and  was  its  sole  witness.  At  first 
the  shorter  boy  got  the  worst  of  it ;  he  was 
knocked  down  three  times  within  as  many 
minutes.  Whoever  has  been  knocked  down 
once  can  tell  what  this  means.  But  Garth 
was  not  beaten.  He  started  up  as  if  the 
touch  of  earth  refreshed  him.  Such  stamina 
a  little  disheartened  his  adversary,  to  whom, 
indeed,  the  other's  deliberate  fury  was 
quite  unaccountable,  and  gradually  became 


FIGHTING. 


appalling.  Sam  fought  with  his  strength, 
but  Garth  put  the  annihilation  of  all  evil 
into  every  blow.  lie  got  more  and  more 
terribly  in  a  rage  each  moment,  but  it  was 
rage  that  calmed  and  cooled  the  faculties, 
not  blinded  them.  Fo  enemy  is  so  unpleas- 
ant to  meet  as  one  of  this  kind  ;  only  killing 
can  beat  him,  and,  if  not  killed,  he  is  very 
apt  to  kill.  Garth's  face  was  fixed  in  a  sin- 
gular expression — a  compound  of  a  smile 
and  a  frown.  He  was  bleeding  from  a  blow 
on  the  chin.  Two  hundred  years  before,  an 
ancestor  of  his,  on  his  wedding-day,  had 
Lioked  precisely  thus. 

When  Sam  stopped  knocking  his  oppo- 
nent down,  the  blackbird  noted  a  change  in 
the  aspect  of  the  fray.  The  larger  boy  was 
now  defending  himself.  He  was  tiring,  and 
was  lacking  in  the  unquenchable  passion 
which  should  take  the  place  of  strength. 
lie  was  fighting  for  his  life,  yet  showed  less 
vigor  than  the  attacking  party,  who,  it  must 
be  inferred,  was  doing  battle  for  something 
t.>  which  life  was  a  secondary  consideration. 
It  was  an  ugly  sight  now  ;  even  a  bird,  one 
would  think,  might  have  felt  the  ugliness  of 
it.  Both  the  faces  were  bleeding  and  dis- 
liirured,  the  leaves  of  the  maple  looked  dab- 
bled with  blood,  the  setting  sun  was  swathed 
in  a  bloody  mist,  and  the  black  plumage  of 
the  bird  was  dashed  here  and  there  with 
red.  All  of  a  sudden  the  larger  boy  fell 
heavily  and  loosely  backward,  and  lay  inert. 
It  was  the  other's  first  knock-down  blow ; 
with  the  force  of  it  he,  too,  fell  on  his  ene- 
my's body. 

The  blackbird  flew  away.  Garth,  with 
an  effort,  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  set  his 
foot  on  Sam's  breast,  gasping  out,  after  the 
custom  of  the  knights  in  the  "  Faerie 
Queene,"  "Do  you  yield  ?  " 

Sam  neither  answered  nor  made  sign  of 
surrender,  but  lay  exactly  as  he  had  fallen. 
In  truth,  the  boy  was  stunned  by  the  blow 
and  the  fall.  But  Garth,  who  was  well  read 
in  details  of  mortal  engagements,  straight- 
way took  him  for  dead.  He  snatched  back 
his  foot,  and  stared  at  the  motionless  body, 
with  a  strange  feeling  curdling  round  his 
heart.  He  had  fought  fair — ay,  with  the 
odds  against  him ;  he  could  plead  justice, 
truth,  honor,  and  all,  on  his  side  ;  barely  had 


he  won  the  victory ;  he  could  reproach  him- 
self in  nothing ;  and  yet  there  lay  Sam,  who 
so  lately  had  lived  and  breathed,  dead  by 
Garth's  hand,  and  the  deadness  of  him 
seemed  somehow  to  have  filled  the  world 
and  the  sky,  and  even  to  have  communicated 
itself  to  the  springs  of  his  slayer's  life,  and 
made  the  better  part  of  him  dead  too. 

Garth  raised  his  eyes,  and  they  fell  upon 
the  trunk  of  the  maple-tree  just  beyond,  on 
which  were  cut  his  own  and  Madge  Dan- 
ver's  initials.  This  was  the  spot  which, 
twelve  hours  before,  he  had  consecrated  to 
the  genius  of  love,  and  to  peace  and  inno- 
cence, and  such  pretty  things — had  conse- 
crated it  at  sunrise  in  order  to  pollute  it  at 
sunset,  or  rather  to  consecrate  it  anew  to 
bloodshed,  strife,  and  hate.  Had  he  done 
wrong  or  right  in  this  matter?  He  could 
reproach  himself  in  nothing ;  and  Sam,  there, 
could  not  accuse  him — alas !  no — could  only 
lie  still  and  accuse  by  not  accusing.  All  was 
a  puzzle  and  a  mystery  except  that  awful  un- 
moving  thing  that  was,  and  yet  was  not,  Sam. 

Kneeling  down  beside  the  spring,  Garth 
washed  the  blood  from  his  own  face  and 
hands,  hastily  bethinking  himself  the  while 
what  was  to  be  done.  The  deadly  earnest- 
ness and  reality  of  the  situation  purged  his 
mind  of  the  fantastic  vapors  and  visions 
which  had  beset  him  heretofore.  He  was 
in  fairy-land  no  longer ;  Sam  and  he  were 
not  knights,  but  two  boys,  one  of  whom  had 
killed  the  other.  Madge — yes,  even  she  was 
disenchanted — was  no  longer  Gloriana,  or 
Una,  or  Belphoebe,  but  a  little  girl,  in  de- 
fense of  whose  innocent  reputation  Garth 
had  compromised  his  own  innocence  and  his 
life.  For  the  boy  knew  that  murder  was 
punished  by  hanging,  and,  not  being  ac- 
quainted with  the  various  gradations  of 
manslaughter  and  justifiable  homicide,  he 
made  no  doubt  that  hanging  was  his  due. 
Mindful  of  his  early  discipline,  therefore — of 
that  self-invited  discipline  of  the  rod — ho 
considered  it  incumbent  upon  himself  not 
only  to  be  hanged,  but  to  lose  no  time  in 
putting  his  head  into  the  noose. 

Had  it  occurred  to  him  to  spend  a  few 
minutes  in  applying  to  Sam  the  ordinary 
methods  for  restoring  suspended  animation, 
he  would  have  been  spared  half  an  hour  or 


GARTH. 


so  of  very  tragic  anguish.  But  Garth  had  a 
natural  bent  to  tragedy — a  tendency  to  re- 
gard the  saddest  aspect  of  a  thing  as  the 
most  likely  to  be  true.  That  Sam  appeared 
dead,  accordingly,  was  reason  enough  for 
believing  that  he  was  so  :  it  would  perhaps 
have  seemed  disrespectful  to  the  awful  maj- 
esty of  fate  to  believe  otherwise.  He  did 
not  look  at  the  body  any  more,  though  he 
was  conscious  of  it  as  it  lay  there,  with  one 
knee  bent,  and  one  arm  thrown  over  its  head. 
He  resolutely  concentrated  his  thoughts  on 
the  two  or  three  questions  which  demanded 
an  immediate  answer.  Must  he  set  off  for 
Haverhill  at  once,  and  deliver  himself  up  to 
justice  without  bidding  farewell  to  his  rela- 
tives, or  would  it  be  allowable  first  to  go 
home  ?  and  might  he  not  see  Madge  before 
lie  went,  and  have  the  consolation  of  telling 
her  that  he  was  to  die  in  her  cause  ? 

He  answered  the  last  question  first,  and 
said  no  to  it.  He  was  blood-stained ;  he  car- 
ried a  death-scent  about  him  ;  and  though 
the  stain  had  been  incurred  for  Madge's 
sake,  it  was  not  fitting  that  he  should  invade 
her  pure  presence  with  it.  If  she  wished  to 
see  him,  she  would  visit  him  in  prison,  and 
he  could  receive  her  there.  As  to  his  father 
and  mother,  he  was  in  doubt.  He  felt  that 
he  belonged  to  them,  and  might  approach 
them,  stained  as  he  was,  without  offense ; 
but  when  he  thought  of  his  mother's  agony 
at  hearing  that  he  was  to  be  hanged,  he 
hesitated  and  held  back.  Yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  was  scarcely  practicable  for  him  to 
get  to  Haverhill  and  tell  his  story  there 
entirely  unsupported.  In  the  midst  of  his 
doubts  he  suddenly  remembered  his  grand- 
father. He  was  the  man  for  the  emergency 
— wise,  influential,  energetic,  and  not  too 
tender-nerved.  He  could  give  the  advice 
and  assistance  needed,  and  to  him  Garth 
would  go. 

It  was  already  twilight  in  the  solemn 
woods  as  the  boy  rose  to  act  upon  this  de- 
cision. He  walked  hurriedly  away  without 
a  sidewise  or  backward  glance.  The  burden 
of  his  deed  was  heavy  upon  him,  and  he 
could  not  rest  until  the  penalty  was  paid. 
He  had  done  what  seemed  to  him  right ;  but 
was  any  right  right  enough  to  warrant  his 
taking  a  life  ?  Garth  feared  not.  He  was 


ready  to  be  hanged  ;  and  yet  he  would  rather 
have  been  hanged  innocent  than  in  requital 
of  this  questionable  crime.  His  soul  was 
very  heavy  ;  and  when  he  had  left  the  pol- 
luted ground  behind  him  he  was  presently 
seized  with  a  nervous  horror,  and  began  to 
run  ;  and  then  the  misery  of  his  plight  over- 
came him,  and  he  sobbed  dolefully,  still  run- 
ning and  stumbling  along  the  darkening 
pathway. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

LOVING. 


lie  had  gone  about  a  mile,  an 
abrupt  turning  brought  him  close  upon  a 
small  figure  seated  on  an  old  stump.  It 
rose  as  he  approached,  and  he  saw  that  it 
was  Madge.  The  encounter  did  not  surprise 
him  —  he  was  too  unhappy  for  surprise  ;  yet 
it  was  strange  that  she  should  be  there  so 
late  alone.  She  seemed  to  have  been  ex- 
pecting some  one  —  not  Garth  certainly. 
She  must  have  mistaken  him  at  first  for  an- 
other person,  for  on  recognizing  him  she 
gave  a  start  and  an  exclamation  : 

"  Ah  !  it  is  not  —    It  is  Garth  Urmson." 

Garth,  unready  of  tongue,  stood  silent, 
an  unlovely  object.  Hatless,  bloody,  dis- 
traught, he  looked  anything  but  a  squire  of 
dames.  But  Madge,  apparently  embarrassed 
on  her  own  account,  did  not  immediately 
remark  his  disorder. 

"  The  others  have  gone  on,"  she  ob- 
served, in  an  airy  tone,  smoothing  out  the 
strings  of  her  hat  and  tying  them  again. 
"  I  —  missed  something,  and  had  come  back 
to  look  for  it.  Then  it  grew  dark.  O 
Mr.  Garth,"  she  continued,  archly  uplifting 
her  small  finger,  "  you  were  unkind  not  to 
come  as  you  promised  me.  I  was  very  un- 
happy. You  forgot  all  about  me  !  " 

"  Oh  I  "  groaned  Garth.  Then,  finding 
himself  unequal  to  any  protestations,  "  You 
must  not  talk  so.  I  have  just  killed  him. 
Will  you  say  good-by  to  me  ?  " 

The  little  woman  stared,  laughed,  checked 
herself,  scrutinized  the  boy's  face  keenly, 
and  finally  began  to  whimper  : 

"  Wh-what  do  you  mean?  Oh,  don't 
look  so  —  you  fr-frighten  me  so  !  " 


LOVING. 


"I'm  going  to  be  hanged,"  said  Garth, 
apologetically.  "  I  didn't  know  you  were 
here.  We  fought  on  equal  ground — be- 
cause he  told  lies  about  you." 

"  HOW— he  told  lies  about  me  ?  "  she  ex- 
claimed, forgetting  everything  in  curiosity. 
"You  did  fight  him?  but  who — who  was 
it  ?  Tell  me,  Garth  !  " 

"  Sam." 

"  Sam  !  "  repeated  she  softly,  clasping 
her  hands.  "O  Garth!  Good  Heavens! 
really  have  you  killed  him?  He  told  lies, 
but  you  didn't  believe  him,  dear  Garth?" 
She  came  close,  and  put  her  hand  on  his 
sleeve  with  a  lovely,  beseeching  tearfulness. 
"  It  was  wicked  of  him  to  tell — to  say  such 
things.  What  did  he  say  about  poor  little 
Madge  ?  I  am  glad  he  is  dead  !  " 

Garth  was  thrilling  beneath  her  touch 
and  the  caress  of  her  voice ;  and  she  had 
called  him  "dear!"  But  in  the  midst  of 
his  happiness  her  harshness  toward  Sam, 
whose  ears  would  never  be  blessed  by  her 
sweet  tones  again,  jarred  upon  him.  He 
could  not  echo  her  words.  He  had  not  a 
heart  which  could  at  once  melt  toward  his 
living  mistress  and  harden  against  a  dead 
enemy.  Moreover,  the  anticipation  of  his 
own  near  dissolution  disposed  him  to  charity. 

"  Be  sorry,"  said  he ;  "  he  is  dead,  you 
know.  When  he  said  that  he — that  you — " 

"  Don't  believe  it.  It  was  a  wi-wicked 
falsehood ! " 

"  He  would  not  confess.  I  did  not  know 
I  should  kill  him.  He  seemed  to  die  of  him- 
self," exclaimed  Garth,  greatly  agitated. 

By  this  time  Madge  was  clinging  to  him, 
and  sobbing  with  her  face  against  his  shoul- 
der. She  did  not  half  comprehend  him  ;  she 
feared  him  to  the  marrow  of  her  pretty 
little  bones ;  and  therefore  she  admired  him, 
as  women  do  admire  the  enigmatic,  the 
terrible,  and  the  victorious.  "  Oh,  don't 
leave  me !  You  don't  hate  me,  do  you  ? 
You  will  take  me  home,  won't  you?  Oh; 
you  are  so  hurt,  dear !  I  will  nurse  you." 

"  But  I  must  be  hanged,"  faltered  Garth. 

"  No,  no,  you  shall  not.  What !  for  kill- 
ing an  Indian  ?  And  nobody  saw  you  do  it, 
and — you  need  not  say  you  did  it." 

"  I  must  be,"  repeated  Garth,  half  in- 
clined to  think  that  hanging,  so  sweetly 


mourned,  was  preferable  to  ordinary  life. 
"  And  since  I  did  kill  him,  I  can't  say  I  did 
not." 

"You  must!  I  will  not  have  you  die! 
I  want  y-you  to  live  !  You  are  the  bravest 
and  the  strongest,  and — Garth — you  may — " 
She  held  up  to  his  her  tremulous,  red,  de- 
licious mouth ;  and  he — simple,  unhackneyed 
soul — did ! 

Yes,  it  was  at  last  no  dream,  but  a  con- 
crete fact ;  and  he  would  have  resented  the 
suggestion  that  the  fact  was  not  as  good  as  or 
better  than  the  dream.  Nevertheless  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  Madge  was  less 
overcome  by  the  situation — possibly  less  a 
stranger  to  such  situations — than  Garth. 
The  feminine  nature  seems  to  be  better  ap- 
pointed for  such  predicaments  than  the  male, 
and  accepts  them  more  easily  and  philo- 
sophically. Meanwhile,  with  those  soft  arms 
round  his  neck,  it  was  hard  to  prefer  the 
hangman's  knot,  and  perhaps  the  boy's  reso- 
lution may  have  wavered  a  little.  At  all 
events,  before  he  had  found  time  distinctly 
to  vindicate  both  his  love  and  his  honor,  the 
struggle  was  annulled  by  the  apparition  of 
the  murdered  Sam  himself. 

"Madge  was  the  first  to  hear  the  approach- 
ing footfall,  and,  with  admirable  presence  of 
mind,  she  drew  Garth  behind  the  thick 
screen  of  an  arbor-vitao.  Sam  approached 
slowly,  staggering  now  and  then  as  ho 
walked.  When  his  late  adversary  recognized 
him,  he  felt  a  tumult  of  joy  and  thankful- 
ness rising  up  within  him  like  a  fountain. 
Forgetting  himself  and  Madge,  almost,  in 
his  glad  emotion,  he  thought  only  of  leaping 
forth  and  hugging  his  bruised  and  beaten 
enemy.  But  Madge  kept  her  wits  about 
her,  and  resolutely  held  Garth  back.  For 
reasons  best  known  to  herself,  she  was  de- 
termined to  at  least  postpone  a  meeting. 
Sam,  therefore,  hobbled  past,  unconscious  of 
spectators.  His  face  was  sullen,  livid,  and 
disfigured. 

"  I'm  sure  he's  ugly  enough !  "  whispered 
Madge,  half  to  herself.  "So — he  is  not 
dead." 

"  No,  not  dead !  "  repeated  Garth,  with 
a  different  intonation.  "  Why  didn't  we 
speak  to  him  ?  We  forgive  him,  and  we  are 
so  happy  ! " 


GARTH. 


"Do  you  forgive  him  ?"  said  the  little 
creature,  fixing  her  black  eyes  on  her  com- 
panion's face.  "  He  is  just  as  wicked  as  be- 
fore you  beat  him.  Perhaps,  now  he's  alive, 
he  will  tell  those  falsehoods  again.  But 
you'll  never  believe  him,  will  you?  " 

"Ho\v  could  I  believe  what  is  not  true? 
But  he  will  never  say  it  again,"  added 
Garth,  with  a  wholesome  confidence  in  the 
moral  efficacy  of  knock-down  blows. 

Madge,  however,  had  turned  pensive,  and 
made  no  reply ;  but  when  the  guilty  Sam 
was  some  time  gone  by,  she  put  her  small 
•warm  hand  in  the  boy's,  and  they  walked 
along  together  through  the  gloom,  Garth 
thinking  he  had  never  been  so  happy  in  all 
his  life;  and  as  for  Madge,  she  too  was 
single-minded :  she  liked  the  dark,  shy  boy 
better  than  anybody  else.  She  believed  in 
power  that  could  be  felt  and  seen,  such  as 
Garth  had  shown  to-day.  She  had  a  femi- 
nine love  of  display,  and  of  being  allied  with 
strength  and  conspicuous  merit  like  Garth's. 
He  frightened  her,  but  she  liked  that  sort  of 
frightening.  She  scarcely  appreciated,  it 
would  seem,  the  finer  and  really  essential 
part  of  his  nature.  She  was  like  Sam  in 
supposing  that  he  had  fought  out  of  com- 
mon jealousy.  She  missed  the  far  higher 
compliment  he  had  paid  her.  She  feared 
him  as  a  force  swayed  by  a  rude  impulse, 
not  tempered  and  concentrated  by  delicacy, 
conscience,  and  reverence.  She  believed, 
and  liked  to  believe,  that  on  due  provoca- 
tion he  would  knock  her  senseless  as  well  as 
Sam.  Of  course  she  would  beware  of  offer- 
ing the  provocation ;  but  there  was  to  her 
mind  a  sense  of  security  in  the  very  danger. 

If  Madge  was  incomplete  in  her  appre- 
hension of  Garth,  she  nevertheless  got  at 
him  very  shrewdly  on  some  points ;  where- 
as he  so  entirely  missed  her  that,  so  her  out- 
ward semblance  and  tone  of  voice  remained 
unaltered,  she  might  have  run  the  whole  hu- 
man gamut  of  temperament,  character,  and 
disposition,  without  a  suspicion  on  his  part 
of  what  was  happening.  The  only  Madge 
he  knew  was  the  graceful  piece  of  flesh-and- 
blood  sculpture  that  went  by  her  name,  the 
actual  informing  essence  of  which  he  quietly 
ignored,  and  substituted  therefor  a  concep- 
tion of  his  own.  His  attitude  lacked  the 


stability  of  Madge's.  She  bnilt  in  the  first 
instance  on  the  tangible,  and  was  thus  both 
safe  from  falls  and  provided  with  a  solid 
starting-point  for  possible  flights. 

Garth  reached  home  that  night  by  moon- 
light, tired,  sore,  and  in  an  exalted  mood  cf 
happiness.  He  went  to  his  room  and  took 
from  its  drawer  a  blue  kerchief,  with  which 
in  hand  he  proceeded  to  the  porch,  where 
his  father  and  mother  were  sitting.  He  was 
too  full  of  his  purpose  to  give  orderly  an- 
swer to  the  questions  wherewith  they  greet- 
ed him.  He  pressed  the  kerchief  into  his 
mother's  hands. 

"I  must  not  keep  it  any  longer,"  said  he. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?  "  inquired  placid 
Mrs.  Urmson,  relinquishing  her  knitting 
and  examining  the  kerchief  in  the  moonlight. 
"  Why,  I  declare,  it  looks  like  an  old  one  of 
mine!  " 

"  I  love  you  as  much  as  ever,  mamma," 
continued  Garth,  too  much  preoccupied  to 
notice  this  inadequate  remark;  "but  some- 
thing has  happened,  and  it  would  be  dishon- 
orable in  me  to  keep  it  any  longer." 

"Dishonorable,  my  child?  Surely  not. 
Keep  it  if  you  want  it ;  it  is  too  much  soiled 
and  creased  for  me  to  use  again." 

"Papa,"  said  Garth,  in  a  mortified  tone, 
i  "  mamma  does  not  understand  me." 

"  There  is  apt  to  be  a  misunderstanding 
about  matters  of  this  sort,  my  boy.  For  my 
part,  I  should  consider  it  a  fortunate  circum- 
stance if  the  lady-love  I  proposed  deserting 
had  forgotten  our  troth-plighting.  You  will 
find  it  does  not  always  turn  out  so." 

"  I  do  not  desert  her.  She  is  always 
mamma." 

"  But  she  is  not  quite  equal  to  your  new 
mistress." 

Garth  paused  and  hesitated.  At  length 
he  said,  "  If  mamma  were  not  your  wife,  she 
could  not  be  my  mother." 

"  Cotton,  my  dear,  you  must  be  content 
with  me  alone  for  the  future,"  said  her  hus- 
band, gravely.  "Garth  has  hit  upon  the 
fatal  argument,  and  is  weaned  henceforth. 
We  are  old  people,  of  secondary  importance 
at  best,  from  this  day  forward. — Garth,  when 
you  are  married  and  settled,  you  will  not 
refuse  us  a  place  by  your  kitchen-fire  ? " 

"  How  can   you   plague  the  dear  child 


LOVING. 


45 


so?"  said  Cotton,  reproachfully,  drawing 
Garth  to  her  and  kissing  him ;  and  she 
added  to  him  :  "  I  remember  about  the  ker- 
chief now.  But  has  my  boy  really  fallen  in 
love?  How  did  it  happen? " 

"  His  grandfather  would  make  him  go  to 
the  picnic,"  suggested  Cuthbert,  arching  his 
eyebrow. 

"  It  was  after  the  picnic,"  said  the  in- 
genuous Garth ;  and  being  questioned,  the 
whole  day's  history  was  drawn  from  him, 
with  the  single  exception  of  what  Sam  had 
said  about  Miss  Margaret  Dariver,  which,  in 
obedience  to  that  young  lady's  request,  was 
hinted  at  only  in  general  terms.  Cuthbert 
laughed  a  good  deal,  being  one  of  those  per- 
sons who  can  laugh  at  a  pathetic  tale  more 
sympathetically  than  another  could  weep  at 
it,  so  that  Garth's  sensibilities  were  not  hurt. 
His  mother  was  in  such  a  tremor  about  the 
fight  that  she  could  hardly  give  due  atten- 
tion to  the  love-story,  nor  rest  until  she  had 
poured  wine  and  oil  into  his  every  scratch. 
"  And  poor  Sam  Kineo !  "  murmured  she ; 
"  you  should  have  brought  him  home  with 
you,  my  dear.  I'm  afraid  his  grandmother 
won't  take  proper  care  of  him." 

"  You  forget  that  Sam  had  not  yielded," 
interposed  Cuthbert.  "  The  etiquette  of 
chivalry  must  be  observed. — So  Miss  Dan- 
vur  is  to  be  your  mother's  successor  ?  " 

"She  is  a  beautiful  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Urmson,  smiling  with  a  wistful  tenderness 
at  her  son;  "not  like  her  grand-aunt;  but 
she  seems  good,  and  I  dare  say.  she  is  much 
sweeter  than  I  know.  We  must  see  more 
of  her.  I  shall  love  whomever  Garth  loves. 
Your  mother  is  not  a  rival — remember  that, 
dear.  I  wish  you  to  be  happier  than  I  can 
make  you." 

Years  afterward,  when  his  mother  was 
dead,  Garth  used  to  muse  over  this  saying 
of  hers,  and  over  the  whole  episode  of  the 
silken  kerchief ;  but  for  that  night  his  head 
was  full  of  the  new  elixir,  whose  potent 
flavor  overpowered  the  older  and  subtiler 
aroma.  Even  his  father's  parting  words 
seemed  less  significant  at  the  time  than  af- 
terward : 

"We  will  call  to-morrow  on  your  late 
adversary,  Sir  Samuel  Kineo,  and  try  to 
conclude  an  honorable  peace  between  the 


families.  I  understand  he  wishes  to  try  his 
fortune  atNewburyport  or  Boston ;  and  per- 
haps we  may  be  able  to  smooth  his  way 
thither.  As  for  Madame  Nikomis,  I  think 
of  asking  her  to  come  and  sit  in  our  kitchen 
for  the  future ;  she  knows  both  how  to  fry 
an  omelet  and  boil  a  potato ;  and  then  mam- 
ma will  have  more  time  for  her  darning. 
By-the-way,  Garth — " 

Garth  knew  his  father's  tones,  and  turned 
quickly. 

"  Your  ancestor,  Neil  Urmson,  before  he 
left  England,  standing  with  his  bride  before 
the  marriage  altar,  killed  the  man  who  had 
been  his  dearest  friend.  A  generation  after- 
ward, Kalph,  his  son,  slew  in  a  petty  duel 
the  man  who  had  saved  his  life.  Seventy- 
five  years  after  that,  your  grandfather,  Cap- 
tain Brian  Urmson,  shot  dead  the  brother 
of  the  woman  to  whom  he  was  betrothed, 
and  whom  he  afterward  married.  Then 
more  than  fifty  years  passed,  and  Garth 
Urmson  accidentally  failed  to  kill  an  ac- 
quaintance of  his  who  had  never  been  taught 
to  fight  against  himself." 

Here  Cuthbert  made  a  solemn  pause,  dur- 
ing which  he  and  his  son  steadfastly  re- 
garded one  another,  the  latter  reddening  and 
a  we- stricken. 

"I  make  no  doubt,"  the  former  then 
continued,  "  that  the  next  time  he  engages, 
he  will  kill  his  opponent  in  earnest.  But, 
when  that  happens,  I  trust  he  will  forget 
that  he  once  bore  his  mother's  favor  and 
pretended  to  be  her  knight,  because  such 
feats  of  arms  are  not  of  a  kind  to  do  her 
memory  honor.  In  fact,  unless  he  can  make 
up  his  mind  to  rest  contented  with  his  ex- 
ploits of  to-day,  and  forego  all  such  indul- 
gences for  the  future,  I  think  he  does  well 
to  disown  her  now." 

Garth  made  no  reply,  except  by  the 
changes  in  his  eyes,  and  a  sort  of  inward 
movement  of  the  lips,  as  if  something  were 
speaking  within  him.  At  length  his  mother 
bade  him  come  and  kiss  her,  which  he  did 
in  so  humble  and  penitent  a  manner  that 
his  father  smiled.  But  when  the  boy  had 
gone  to  bed,  and  Martha  had  gently  up- 
braided the  paternal  severity  which,  she 
averred,  had  almost  broken  their  son's  heart, 
Cuthbert  passed  his  slender  hand  through 


GARTH. 


his  soft  grayish  hair  with  something  like  a 
sigh. 

"Perhaps,  after  all,  nothing  less  than 
heart-break  will  save  him.  The  old  fellow 
meant  something  by  that  kiss  he  gave  you, 
however. — Cotton,  tell  me  something !  " 

She  looked  up. 

u  About  Miss  Margaret  Danver.  Do  you 
suppose  her  indignation  at  Mr.  Kineo's  in- 
discreet statements  proceeded  from  precisely 
the  same  ground  as  Garth's  ? " 

"We  don't  know  what  Sam  said,"   re- 


plied Mrs.  Urmson,  after  some  considera- 
tion. 

"True.  I  forgot  that!  Well,  Garth  is 
a  more  attractive  young  gentleman  than  I 
had  supposed.  I  should  have  pitched  on 
Mr.  Kineo  as  likely  to  be  the  favored  man 
in  this  case — judging  from  my  knowledge 
of  the  lady." 

"  How  could  she  help  loving  Garth  best  ?" 
returned  tender  Cotton  Martha,  with  a  moth- 
er's serene  arrogance;  and  Cuthbert  caly 
arched  his  eyebrow. 


BOOK  III. 
G  R  0  P  IN  G. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ANTAGONISMS. 

WHEN  Sam  had  recovered  from  his 
bruises  sufficiently  to  allow  of  his  putting 
a  decent  face  on  the  world,  he  went  to  New- 
buryport,  where  Mr.  Urmson  had  obtained 
him  an  eligible  situation.  Garth  had  ex- 
pected that  his  adversary  would  have  honor- 
ably acknowledged  the  wrong  to  Madge  of 
which  he  had  been  guilty,  and  would  have 
bidden  him  a  friendly  farewell.  But  Sam, 
if  he  had  any  confessions  to  make,  chose  not 
to  make  them ;  so  the  breach  between  the 
two  remained  unhealed. 

During  the  next  year  or  two,  Garth  grew 
in  more  ways  than  one.  It  was  his  anoma- 
lous period ;  the  child  character  was  dis- 
solving, and  the  elements  were  reforming 
into  youthhood.  He  was  unlike  both  his 
earlier  and  his  later  self;  his  manner  was 
restless,  his  moods  unequal,  and  he  had  oc- 
casional fits  of  something  like  talkativeness. 
Having  cast  off  his  faerie  accoutrements,  he 
was  trying  to  accustom  himself  to  the  home- 
spun of  every-day  humanity,  and  to  deter- 
mine his  use  and  place  in  the  real  world. 

The  tendency  to  universal  investigation 


is  a  perilous  one  ;  but  Garth  had  a  forebod- 
ing that  he  would  one  day  be  wiser  than 
now,  and  hence  he  often  suspended  his  judg- 
ment and  bided  his  time,  lest  his  future 
should  ridicule  his  present.  Yet  he  laid  val- 
iantly about  him  on  all  sides  to  find  his 
own,  and  it  was  often  amusing  to  observe 
in  what  incongruous  directions  his  groping 
energies  were  put  forth. 

Besides  a  new  diligence  in  book-learning 
(though  he  had  the  air  of  studying  his  les- 
sons less  for  their  intrinsic  sake  than  in  the 
hope  of  their  opening  up  some  hidden  pro- 
cess or  suggestion),  he  was  zealous  in  chop- 
ping wood,  digging  potatoes,  skating,  rid- 
ing, and  canoeing;  and  he  developed  a  fresh 
critical  interest  in  flowers  and  forests,  hills, 
streams,  and  clouds,  until  it  seemed  likely 
he  might  turn  out  a  naturalist.  Again, 
one  of  his  main  occupations  during  several 
months  was  housekeeping ;  and  Urmhurst 
had  seldom  seen  brighter  days  than  under 
his  administration. 

Having  learned  from  his  mother  the  what 
and  how  of  his  duties,  he  thereafter  did  them 
with  such  conscientious  vigor  that  they 
seemed  to  have  never  been  done  before. 
The  steel  knives  looked  like  silver ;  pots, 
pans,  and  crockery,  glistened  and  sparkled, 


ANTAGONISMS. 


47 


and  were  never  broken.  The  black  oaken 
floors  and  wainscot,  the  brass  candle-brack- 
ets, the  huge  andirons,  the  legs  of  the  ta- 
bles, and  the  runnels  of  the  chairs,  all  shone 
beneath  his  potent  rub.  In  the  kitchen, 
Garth  wore  a  white-paper  cap  and  an  apron, 
and  rolled  up  his  sleeves  to  the  elbow.  The 
dough  which  ho  kneaded  rose  up  like  Sam- 
son in  the  night,  lifting  the  kneading-board 
on  its  white  shoulders.  The  meat  was  roast- 
ed with  all  the  warmth  of  his  heart.  Though 
his  cookery  was  rather  whimsical  at  first,  it 
rapidly  improved,  until  its  worst  fault  was 
its  lack  of  economy.  While  there  still  ap- 
peared to  be  a  great  deal  to  learn  in  the  way 
of  household  lore,  Garth  pursued  it  unremit- 
tingly ;  but,  once  he  had  got  the  upper  hand 
of  it,  its  attractions  began  to  pall  upon  him. 
Fortunately,  his  engagement  as  chief  cook 
and  housemaid  had  never  been  looked  upon 
as  other  than  a  temporary  affair — a  means 
of  filling  the  gap  between  the  defection  of 
one  servant  and  the  installation  of  another ; 
so  that,  by  the  time  he  had  exhausted  the 
novelty  of  the  experience,  a  successor  was 
at  hand  to  relieve  him. 

His  intellectual  diversions  lasted  him  bet- 
ter ;  books  enticed  him  by  failing  to  satisfy 
him ;  but,  after  all,  it  was  only  in  wooing 
Nature  that  he  found  both  gratification  and 
incitement.  His  lofty  ambitions  charmed 
his  mother  and  amused  his  father ;  bound- 
less were  the  worth  and  wisdom  whereto  he 
proposed  to  attain.  About  this  time  he  got 
hold  of  the  Bible,  and  read  it  through  with 
reverential  avidity.  His  mother,  indeed, 
had  instructed  him  in  the  psalms  and  gos- 
pels from  as  far  back  as  he  could  remember ; 
but  he  had  listened  rather  to  her  tones  than 
to  what  she  said,  and  had  been  more  im- 
pressed by  the  acknowledged  solemnity  of 
the  hour  than  by  the  sacred  teachings  them- 
selves. Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  ap- 
proached the  book  independently,  and  drew 
his  own  conclusions  from  what  he  read. 

Probably  they  were  unorthodox ;  and  an 
experience  of  his,  about  this  time,  at  the  vil- 
lage meeting  house,  would  seem  to  have  con- 
firmed him  in  his  nonconformity.  The  boy 
had  never  yet  been  to  church,  his  father  al- 
ways declining  to  force  his  will  in  the  mat- 
ter, and  Garth  being  daunted  at  the  idea  of 


facing  a  congregation.  However,  his  grand- 
father at  length  gained  his  ear,  and  bellowed 
into  it  to  such  good  effect  that  Garth  was 
presently  as  eager  as  he  had  before  been  re- 
luctant to  sit  in  a  pe\v,  and  on  the  following 
Sunday  morning  he  accordingly  took  his 
place  in  one,  and  awaited  what  might  hap- 
pen in  hushed  expectation. 

His  notions  of  worship  having  always 
been  associated  with  privacy,  he  was  at  first 
somewhat  abashed  by  the  openness  of  every 
thing.  How  could  he  be  expected  to  unfold 
his  heart  to  the  Lord  with  fifty  or  sixty  peo- 
ple looking  on  ?  Just  as  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  the  place  he  was  then  in  must 
be  a  sort  of  antechamber,  whenco  he  would 
presently  be  admitted  to  some  hallowed  in- 
ner tabernacle,  the  white-headed  pastor  up- 
rose tower-like  in  the  pulpit,  and,  to  Garth's 
amazement,  began  to  rumble  forth  a 
prayer!  Glancing  hastily  around,  he  saw 
that  the  congregation  had  hidden  its  face  in 
its  hands — a  gesture  which  he  attributed  to 
their  shame  at  the  poor  minister's  irreverent 
conduct.  No  one  interfered  to  stop  him, 
however,  and  the  prayer  went  on,  Garth 
blushing  anew  at  each  fresh  invocation. 
This  ordeal  over,  a  short  pause  ensued,  and 
the  neophyte  observed  a  general  coughing, 
rustling,  and  brandishing  of  handkerchiefs — 
efforts  on  the  part  of  the  scandalized  hear- 
ers to  recover  their  equanimity.  But  now 
the  hoary  offender  rose  again,  to  all  appear- 
ance still  unabashed,  and  proceeded  to  read  a 
hymn,  the  sing-song  piety  of  which  was  in 
as  bad  taste  as  the  prayer,  though  on  other 
accounts  less  offensive.  It  will  scarcely  be 
credited,  but  the  assemblage,  instead  of  sig- 
nifying their  disapproval  by  a  unanimous 
sigh,  or  even  by  an  eloquent  silence,  rose 
with  one  accord  to  their  feet,  and  sang  aloud 
to  the  accompaniment  of  music  the  very 
words  that  Parson  Graeme  had  just  read. 
After  this  rude  shock,  Garth  began  to  real- 
ize into  how  ill  a  place  he  had  fallen.  He 
was  solitary  in  the  midst  of  a  callous  and  un- 
sympathetic crowd,  and  had  the  pain  of  being 
at  odds  with  them,  without  the  power  of 
believing  himself  in  the  wrong. 

It  was  a  long  session  for  him ;  even  the 
physical  discomfort  of  the  narrow  seat  be- 
came almost  intolerable.  The  sermon  was 


48 


GARTH. 


a  revelation,  though  not  in  the  sense  that  its  | 
author  intended.  It  was  one  of  the  parson's 
best,  and  probably  the  spectacle  of  Garth's 
emotion,  which  was  manifest  enough  in  its 
effects  if  not  in  its  causes,  spurred  the 
wretched  man  to  unwonted  exertions. 
"With  the  lusty  good-fellowship  of  long 
familiarity,  the  worthy  preacher  rang  the 
changes  upon  the  Divine  name,  and  criti- 
cally interpreted  the  Divine  acts  and  pur- 
poses. Garth  was  visited  to  his  depths  with 
the  hot  glow  of  shame,  sorrow,  and  indig- 
nation. He  dared  not  own  even  to  himself 
his  opinion  of  his  grandfather ;  and  knew 
not  what  to  think  of  a  congregation  which 
could  not  only  unresistingly  endure  this  in- 
decent profanation,  but  in  several  instances 
(or  else  Garth's  eyes  and  ears  deceived  him) 
could  go  to  sleep  in  the  midst  of  it !  For  a 
moment,  the  boy  mistrusted  and  abhorred 
his  kind  ;  and  as  for  his  grandfather,  he  in- 
tended to  have  an  interview  with  him  after 
service  was  over,  and  urge  him  to  abandon 
the  ministerial  calling  at  once  and  forever. 

Fortunately,  however,  the  meeting  was 
prevented.  Madge  Danver  joined  her  young 
lover  at  the  door  of  the  meeting-house,  and 
he,  anxious  to  gain  her  sympathetic  hearing 
for  his  wrongs,  walked  away  with  her  to  the 
rocky  margin  of  the  stream,  and  there  spent 
c,  somewhat  unsatisfactory  hour  in  her  com- 
pany. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  March ;  the 
snows  had  been  melted  by  a  week  of  warm 
rain ;  the  trees  were  already  beginning  to 
put  forth  small  greenish-brown  buds ;  the 
earth  was  moist  and  spongy,  and  the  river 
was  swollen  beyond  precedent,  and  rushed 
in  tumultuous  rapids  over  its  headlong  bed. 
The  point  at  which  the  young  people  had 
stationed  themselves  was  considerably  above 
the  lake-level,  and  the  descent  thither  was 
in  several  places  very  abrupt.  The  stream, 
in  fact,  was  a  succession  of  low  waterfalls 
alternating  with  irregular  inclines ;  it  turned 
two  or  three  mill-wheels  above  the  town, 
but  for  the  last  four  miles  of  its  course  it 
ran  unimpeded.  During  the  dry  months 
this  portion  of  it  was  useful  only  from  an 
aesthetic  point  of  view,  being  highly  pict- 
uresque ;  in  the  season  of  spring  freshets 
the  wood-cutters  sometimes  floated  logs  down 


to  the  lake;  but  the  rapids  were  at  all 
times  considered  impassable  by  the  skillf  ul- 
est  canoe. 

On  the  banks  half  a  mile  below  the  vil- 
lage was  a  small  shed,  rudely  constructed  of 
four  uprights  and  a  thatching  of  twigs  and 
bark.  Here  Garth,  during  the  last  few 
weeks,  had  been  building  a  birch  canoe,  and 
had  succeeded  remarkably  well  in  combining 
strength  with  lightness  in  its  construction. 
It  now  lay  on  the  stocks,  complete  save  for 
a  few  ornamental  additions.  The  youth  and 
maiden,  whose  steps  had  insensibly  brought 
them  hither,  had  seated  themselves  by  mu- 
tual consent  upon  the  prostrate  trunk  of  a 
hemlock  near  the  shed. 

"  How  shall  you  get  the  canoe  to  the 
lake,  Garth  ?  "  the  maiden  inquired. 

"  Carry  it  on  my  head  —  it's  light 
enough." 

"  If  I  were  a  man,"  she  rejoined,  glancing 
at  him  from  the  corner  of  her  dark,  provok- 
ing eye,  "  I  would  make  it  carry  me !  " 

"  It's  well  you  are  not  a  man  :  for  man 
or  woman  either  couldn't  take  a  canoe  down 
those  rapids  in  a  freshet  like  this." 

"  An  Indian  could  do  it,  though  !  That 
Indian,  long  ago — when  your  first  ancestor 
came  over  here — he  did  it.  Do  you  believe 
that  story,  Mr.  Garth  ? " 

"  If  he  believed  he  could  do  it,  I  believe 
he  may  have  done  it,"  answered  the  youth 
after  a  pause.  "  But  I  thought  that  was  a 
private  family  tradition  of  ours,  Madge. 
How  came  you  to  know  of  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  turning  her  head  side- 
ways and  smiling,  "  the  descendant  of  that 
Indian  told  me.  But,  no  doubt,  as  you  say, 
there  was  never  a  white  man  who  could 
have  done  such  a  thing.  Indians  are  more 
reckless  and  daring." 

To  this  assertion  Garth  made  no  rejoin- 
der, and  a  silence  fell  between  the  two.  At 
length  Madge  jumped  up  impatiently,  and 
declared  that  she  was  going  home.  Garth 
also  rose  mechanically,  and  prepared  to  ac- 
company her. 

"  No — no  !  "  she  exclaimed,  shaking  her 
head  waywardly ;  "  no,  I  won't  have  you  !  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because — because  you  have  been  very 
disagreeable  this  afternoon,  and  you  don't 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE. 


love  me.  And  you  wouldn't  care  if  you 
never  saw  me  again."  She  looked  full  at 
him  as  she  said  these  words ;  as  if  watching 
their  effect.  Garth  met  her  eyes  with  such 
an  impetuous  glance,  that  they  wavered. 

"  AVould  you  care,  then  ? "  she  asked, 
moving  a  chip  of  birch-bark  about  with  the 
point  of  one  little  shoe. 

"  I  care  too  much !  "  exclaimed  Garth, 
with  vehemence.  "  I  sometimes  think  I 
would  rather  be  what  you  like  than  what 
—than  what  I  ought  to  be  !  " 

"  What  ought  you  to  be  ? "  demanded 
she,  pouting. 

"  I  ought  to  be  what  God  likes !  "  said 
Garth,  reddening  up  to  his  hair. 

Madge  averted  her  face,  and  shrugged 
her  pretty  shoulders.  "  Oh,  well,  if  God 
doesn't  like  you  to  love  me,  of  course  that 
ends  it.  I  think  you  might  have  told  me  be- 
fore ! " 

"Do  you  misunderstand  me  on  pur- 
pose ?  "  exclaimed  Garth,  putting  his  hands 
behind  him  and  clinching  them  together. 
"  I  meant,  that  you  often  seem  to  like  me 
most  when  I  am  least  what  I  care  to  be. 
And  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"I  think  you'd  better  say  good-by  to 
me,"  returned  Madge,  stealing  another  look 
at  him.  "You  will  be  happier  nut  to  see 
me  again." 

Garth  struggled  Avith  his  temper  for  a 
moment  and  forced  it  down,  but  his  voice 
shook  a  little  as  he  said:  "Don't  speak  so, 
Madge.  Do  you  wish  to  quarrel?  it  has 
seemed  so,  lately,  and  to-day  you  have  done 
nothing  but  make  fun  of  me  for  what  I  said 
about  going  to  church.  Forgive  me  for  an- 
swering you  so  roughly  1  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  that,  yon  foolish 
boy !  "  she  replied,  half  relentingly.  "  I 
like  you  to  be  rough  and  savage — in  the 
right  sort  of  way !  But  it's  so  tiresome  to 
have  you  always  thinking  about  what  your 
highest  vocation  is,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  If  you'd  only  just  be  strong  and — 
and  terrible,  like  some  great  hero!  " 

Garth  kept  his  eyes  fixed  gloomily  upon 
her,  and  shook  his  head,  but  answered  noth- 
ing. 

"Well,  I'm  going,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause,  beginning  to  move  away.  At  the 


distance  of  about  a  dozen  paces,  she  turned 
and  looked  at  him  once  more ;  he  still  stood 
in  the  same  position,  with  his  hands  behind 
him. 

"  Good-by,  Garth !  "  she  called,  in  a  tone 
of  mingled  reproach  and  affectionate  regret. 
"  Good-by,  my  Garth !  "  and  she  kissed  her 
hand  to  him. 

"  Shall  I  come  with  you  ?  "  he  said,  ad- 
vancing; but  she  motioned  him  back  with 
the  same  hand  she  had  just  kissed  to  him. 
Nevertheless,  he  came  close  up  to  her,  and 
saw  that  her  eyes  had  tears  in  them. 

"O  Madge,  forgive  me!"  he  repeated, 
very  remorsefully.  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"No,  no,  it  ia  all  my  fault,"  she  said, 
brushing  her  tears  lightly  away  and  smiling. 
"  I  don't  know  myself  what  I  want,  and  it's 
no  matter.  You  mustn't  mind  all  the  non- 
sense I  talk.  Good-by  !  "  She  hesitated, 
glancing  at  him  sidelong.  "  Tell  me,  Garth, 
what  would  you  say,  really,  if  you  were 
never  to  see  me  again — if  I  were  to  run 
away  or  something,  and  never  come  back?  " 

"I  should  say  it  was  my  fault,  I  sup- 
pose," replied  he,  smiling  also,  though  by 
no  means  with  an  air  of  being  amused. 

The  answer  did  not  seem  to  please 
Madge ;  she  tossed  her  head,  and  muttered 
something  to  herself,  and  again  walked  away. 
Just  before  passing  out  of  sight,  however, 
she  threw  a  parting  glance  over  her  shoul- 
der. Garth  had  gone  back  to  the  hemlock- 
log,  and  was  sitting  upon  it  with  his  head 
resting  on  his  hands. 

"  He  won't  care ! "  the  girl  said,  half 
aloud ;  and  she  caught  her  breath  with  a 
sob  as  she  hastened  along  beneath  the  trees. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A     NAKROW     ESCAPE. 

GARTH  staid  by  the  little  shed  for  a 
long  time,  in  a  state  of  moody  dissatisfac- 
tion with  himself  and  the  world.  It  was 
now  about  eighteen  months  since  the  mem- 
orable night  of  his  battle  with  Sam  Kineo, 
and  during  this  time  he  and  Madge  had  had 
several  misunderstandings,  more  or  less  sim- 
ilar to  the  one  which  had  just  token  place. 


50 


GAETH. 


Madge  had  grown  more  rapidly  than 
Garth,  and,  though  she  was  still  early  in  her 
teens,  she  might  almost  have  heen  called  a 
young  woman.  Her  beauty  had  now  a  dis- 
tinct and  definite  character,  and  outdid  even 
its  childish  promise.  That  so  much  feminine 
charm  should  be  cooped  up  in  an  out-of-the- 
way  village  like  Urmsworth,  was  an  injus- 
tice to  mankind,  to  which  Madge  herself, 
perhaps,  was  not  altogether  insensible.  She 
had  ambitions  beyond  her  present  lot,  which 
occasionally  made  her  restive  and  capricious, 
and  almost  ready  to  prefer  an  exciting  and 
adventurous  adversity  to  a  commonplace 
and  uneventful  prosperity. 

She  and  Garth  had  never  been  formally 
betrothed.  Not  that  parental  obduracy  dis- 
tinctly stood  in  the  way;  but  Mr.  Urmson 
had  put  it  to  them  with  winning  gravity, 
whether,  before  settling  their  destiny  be- 
yond recall,  it  were  not  well  to  wait  until 
a  somewhat  wider  experience  should  render 
their  choice  a  finer  mutual  compliment. 
Garth  was  captured  by  this  logic,  which 
suggested  opportunities  for  self-sacrifice,  for 
which  (perhaps  believing  them  to  be  of  rare 
occurrence  in  this  happy  world)  he  had  a 
lusty  appetite.  Madge  likewise  acquiesced, 
though  whether  on  the  same  grounds  as  her 
lover  did  not  appear.  At  all  events,  the 
sequel  seemed  to  prove  her  better  qualified 
than  he  to  endure  the  freedom  of  the  pro- 
bation. 

Indeed,  Garth  was  not  entirely  responsi- 
ble for  the  uneasiness  which  possessed  him  ; 
Madge,  in  one  way  or  another,  fomented  his 
disquietude.  She  wished  him  to  be  a  hero, 
and  heroism  was  his  aim  too ;  but  their  con- 
ceptions of  the  heroic  not  happening  to 
agree,  her  influence  rather  agitated  than 
directed  him.  It  was  not  his  seasons  of 
mental  exaltation  that  most  impressed  her  ; 
but  when  he  was  physically  aroused — when, 
perchance,  she  had  tempted  him  to  an  out- 
break of  glowing  wrath — then  would  she 
rejoicingly  tremble  and  deem  him  a  man 
of  men.  On  the  other  hand,  Garth's  early 
training,  as  well  as  his  innate  morality,  bade 
him  keep  down  the  very  phase  of  his  nature 
which  Madge  aimed  to  stimulate.  She  was, 
in  a  sense,  the  embodiment  of  those  tenden- 
cies against  which  his  higher  traits  were 


embattled.  Perhaps  neither  of  them  saw 
their  mutual  position  in  this  light ;  but  its 
effect  upon  Garth  must  be  to  endanger  the 
hardly-raised  barriers  of  self-control. 

Such  spiritual  turmoils  in  a  person  whose 
physical  constitution  was  singularly  healthy 
and  robust  often  led  him  to  put  his  nerves 
and  muscles  to  a  strain,  by  way  of  recover- 
ing his  moral  equanimity.  It  was  a  natural 
instinct,  the  slighting  of  which  might  have 
occasioned  trouble  of  a  more  serious  kind 
than  would  follow  upon  its  indulgence.  Tho 
feats  of  strength  and  daring  which  he 
achieved  at  such  times  would  have  made 
him  the  talk  of  the  neighborhood,  only  that 
he  never  spoke  of  them,  and,  indeed,  set  no 
value  upon  them,  save  as  they  cleared  his 
inward  sky.  Even  Madge  seldom  found 
them  out,  though,  had  he  realized  how  much 
they  elevated  him  in  her  estimation,  he 
might  have  waxed  more  communicative. 

Madge  was  hungry  for  sensation ;  sho 
wanted  continual  evidence  that  her  lover 
was  better  than  any  other  girl's,  and,  unless 
she  got  this,  was  prone  to  become  intrac- 
table and  coquettish.  To-day  she  had  been 
especially  trying,  and,  had  Garth  been  of  a 
jealous  disposition,  he  might  have  found 
warrant  in  some  of  her  broken  hints  for 
grave  anxiety.  His  unsuspicious  temper 
saved  him  from  this ;  but  he  began  to  fore- 
see one  of  his  hair-brained  escapades,  and 
was  ready  to  improve  the  first  opportunity 
that  presented  itself. 

After  a  long  fit  of  musing,  the  boy  arose 
and  sauntered  along  the  moist  wood-paths 
to  Urmhurst,  where  he  ate  a  cold  dinner 
with  philosophic  indifference.  His  father 
purposely  abstained  from  questioning  him 
about  his  church  adventure  of  the  morning; 
but  at  last  Garth  said,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  and  clutching  the  thick  hair  on  either 
side  of  his  head  : 

"Church  is  not  good  for  me." 

"  What  was  the  sermon  about,  my  dear?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Urmson  from  the  window-seat. 

Garth's  only  reply  was  a  solemn  shake 
of  the  head.  Then,  addressing  his  father : 

"  You  never  go  to  church." 

"I  heard  all  your  grandfather's  sermons 
when  I  was  a  boy,  and  can  preach  them  now 
to  myself." 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE. 


51 


Garth  fell  into  a  brown  study ;  but  finally 
emerged  to  inquire : 

"  Is  there  no  way  of  going  to  church 
alone?" 

"  Why  ?  "  returned  Mr.  Urmson. 

"  Going  to  the  meeting-house  does  not 
make  me  feel  at  church.  But  last  winter  I 
skated  alone  on  the  lake  at  night,  and  I  came 
to  a  thin  place  where  the  water  was  deep. 
The  ice  broke  behind  me  as  I  passed  over  it. 
Then — all  at  once — I  felt  as  I  thought  I  was 
to  feel  this  morning.  I  understood  all  sorts 
of  beautiful  and  holy  things,  and  everything 
seemed  to  mean — it  was  like  that  nineteenth 
Psalm  you  taught  me,  mamma!  " 

Here  Garth  stopped  abruptly  ;  the  silence 
that  ensued  appeared  to  reveal  to  him  his 
unwonted  garrulity,  and,  coloring  uncom- 
fortably, he  got  up  and  left  the  room. 

"  To  think  of  the  clear  child  having  been 
alone  on  the  thin  ice  at  night !  What  if  he 
had  fallen  in  and  been  drowned !  "  exclaimed 
Martha,  with  a  shudder. 

Cuthbert  laughed  in  his  ambiguous,  un- 
expected fashion. 

"It's  the  thought  of  poor  grandpapa 
that  troubles  me.  His  ill-success  with  Garth 
will  make  him  prematurely  aged." 

"  Garth  is  very  strange  at  times.  Some- 
times I  almost  think  I  hardly  understand 
him  myself!  And,  think!  my  husband," 
continued  Martha,  laying  her  knitting  on 
her  lap,  "he  won't  be  a  child  much  longer. 
It  makes  me  feel  old  to  remember  it !  " 

The  eyes  of  husband  and  wife  met,  and 
each  realized,  for  the  first  time,  perhaps, 
that  tbe  other's  hair  was  getting  gray.  She 
was  fifty,  he  fifty-five.  They  had  wedded 
at  middle-age,  but  with  young  hearts,  and 
their  love  remaining  youthful  they  had  taken 
small  heed  of  time.  Cuthbert,  who,  as  a 
boy,  had  been  delicate,  and  had  returned 
from  his  prolonged  foreign  tour  only  partly 
restored,  showed  more  signs  of  age  in  his 
slightly  bent  and  attenuated  figure  than  in 
his  face ;  which  had  an  inward  kindliness 
and  serenity  of  expression  that  half  neutral- 
ized the  testimony  of  wrinkles  and  of 
grizzled  locks.  Martha  was  more  boun- 
teously made  than  her  husband ;  she  was  a 
sane,  quiet,  wholesome  soul,  with  dark, 
level  eyebrows,  and  a  tender,  motherly, 


comely  countenance.  She  had  mellowed 
rather  than  aged  with  time;  yet  the  im- 
maculate whiteness  of  her  cap  presented 
yearly  less  and  less  contrast  to  the  smooth 
hair  below  it,  and  there  was  a  growing  dim- 
ness in  her  eyesight  that  told  of  spectacles 
not  far  off.  Cuthbert's  gray  eyes  still  re- 
tained nearly  the  brilliancy  of  youth  ;  and, 
perhaps,  in  spite  of  appearances,  his  hold  on 
life  was  stronger  than  Martha's. 

"  Yes ;  it's  time  we  stopped  playing  at 
being  old  people,"  said  he,  with  the  musing 
half-smile  that  was  wont  to  curl  up  one  cor- 
ner of  his  mouth.  "  Let  us  in  future  lay 
aside  disguise,  and  be  the  children  that  we 
are.  How  else  can  we  have  the  face  to  put 
down  in  Garth  his  insolent  assumption  of 
being  over  sixteen  years  old  ? " 

Cuthbert,  in  some  of  his  moods,  had  al- 
ways been  an  agreeable  mystery  to  his  wife ; 
and  she  now  resumed  her  knitting  with  no 
other  answer  than  a  smile. 

"  Cotton,"  began  he  again,  looking  fixedly 
at  the  page  of  his  book,  "Miss  Danver  will 
soon  be  of  marriageable  age." 

"  But  Garth  will  not,  for  several  years," 
returned  Mrs.  Urmson,  somewhat  eagerly. 

"  Why,  then — poor  Margaret !  " 

"  But  you  know  the  children  are  not  en- 
gaged, my  dear."  Here  Mrs.  Urmson  shifted 
her  needles.  "  Madge  is  very  pretty,  and  al- 
ways seems  sweet,  though  somehow  I  can't 
feel  as  if  I  were  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
her  yet."  Mrs.  Urmson  knitted  a  row  in 
silence,  and  then  added  :  "  Not  that  I  think 
she'd  be  likely  to  change  her  mind,  of 
course !  " 

u  Why,  then — poor  Sam  Kineo !  "  said 
Cuthbert,  laughing. 

Mrs.  Urmson  dropped  her  knitting.  "  Has 
he  come  back  ? "  she  cried. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  Oh,  what  a  sphinx 
you  are,  Cotton  !  You  never  say  half  you 
mean.  Do  you  think,  then,  that  Garth  had 
better  go  through  college  before  making  a 
Mrs.  Garth  ? " 

"  Oh — college  ?  But,  my  dear,  have  we 
thought  of  college  before  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  be  sure  ;  I  don't  remember  our 
having  spoken  of  it  till  now.  But,  as  I  was 
saying,  there  is  no  telling  what  you  may  be 
thinking  about  until  you  choose  to  open  your 


52 


GARTH. 


lips!  We'll  mention  the  matter  to  Garth 
to-morrow." 

"Garth  in  college — dear  me!  But  per- 
haps, after  all,  it  may  be  best,"  murmured 
Martha,  over  her.  rhythmic  needles.  Cuth- 
berth  smiled  apart  to  his  book,  and  for  the 
present  the  subject  dropped. 

Meanwhile  the  youth  in  question  went 
early  to  bed.  But  at  midnight  he  arose,  and 
let  himself  quietly  out  of  his  bedroom-win- 
dow. The  round  moon,  looking  freshly  is- 
sued from  some  celestial  mint,  rode  above 
the  thin  black  arms  of  the  naked  trees,  and 
the  gloomy  masses  of  the  pines.  There  was 
no  wind ;  nothing  seemed  to  move  save 
Garth  and  his  shadow.  These  two  traveled 
along  in  company,  occasionally  losing  each 
other  in  dark  places,  but  always  together  in 
the  moonlight.  Proceeding  swiftly,  they 
were  soon  on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  at  the 
shed  where  the  canoe  lay.  Having  slipped 
off  his  shoes  and  his  shirt,  Garth  carried  the 
canoe  to  the  water's  edge,  and  set  it  in  the 
water  below  a  projection  of  the  bank,  where 
an  eddy  set  back  against  the  stream.  Then 
he  stepped  lightly  into  the  round  aperture 
amidships,  grasped  the  paddle,  and  in  another 
moment  was  away  !  The  wind  of  his  going 
blew  his  hair  backward.  The  canoe  seemed 
to  be  snatched  onward  by  invisible  hands. 

A  few  yards  ahead  the  uprooted  stump 
of  a  great  tree  was  sweeping  along,  rolling 
over  and  over,  whirling  round  and  round, 
and  tossing  its  black,  knotted  roots  toward 
the  quiet  moon  like  a  drowning  hobgoblin. 
Garth,  in  its  wake,  sat  like  an  ivory  statue, 
bending  a  little  forward,  the  paddle  dividing 
the  water  behind  like  a  fish's  tail.  To  him- 
self he  appeared  stationary,  while  the  world 
was  in  mad  race  and  whirl  around  him : 
only  the  moon  and  he  stood  still.  Of  a  sud- 
den a  glistening  crest  of  rock  seemed  to  rush 
toward  him  through  the  foam,  to  dash  him 
in  pieces ;  now  it  swerved  dizzily  from  his 
path,  and  shot  by  him  with  a  hiss.  But  the 
great  stump  had  thrown  out  a  twisted  arm, 
which  caught  the  rock  for  a  moment — long 
enough  for  the  canoe  to  get  abreast  of  it ; 
and  then  the  two  flew  downward  side  by 
side.  After  a  perilous  minute  the  stump 
crashed  into  the  branches  of  a  fallen  tree 
which  lay  half  across  the  stream,  and,  before 


it  could  disengage  itself,  the  canoe  was  in 
advance.  Thenceforward  Garth  heard  the 
unseen  monster  splashing  and  rushing  close 
astern. 

Though  keeping  his  eyes  unswervingly 
to  the  front,  he  was  observant  of  everything. 
He  felt  transcend ently  awake  ;  every  faculty 
was  full  of  life  and  quietly  in  tune.  The 
rush  and  tumult  brought  him  repose,  and  ho 
was  stronger  for  the  power  that  seemed  to 
threaten  him.  He  was  not  at  the  mercy  of 
I  the  waters,  but  they  bore  him  as  slaves  their 
I  master.  The  river  ran  as  he  pleased.  His 
I  apparent  peril  was  but  proof  of  his  power. 
The  boy  felt  no  hurry  of  excitement,  no 
confused  throbbing  of  brain  or  tremor  of 
muscle.  He  marked  the  white  clots  of  foam 
that  slowly  fell  behind  him ;  the  spinning 
eddies  crossed  without  diverting  his  course. 
He  was  conscious  of  the  reeling  banks,  their 
blackness  cloven  here  and  there  by  gleams 
of  moonlight.  The  night  air  through  which 
he  dived  downward  smote  cool  on  his  naked 
breast,  even  as  the  water  against  the  birchen 
bows  of  his  canoe.  His  shadow  rested  pal- 
pitating on  the  boiling  current  to  the  right. 
He  was  at  one  with  Nature,  and  therefore) 
safe ;  a  human  being,  and  therefore  above 
security.  He  was  inwardly  tickled  with 
spiritual  laughter  ;  he  sat  at  ease,  while  the 
earth  buzzed  for  him  like  a  top  !  Down — 
plunging  downward  through  the  ghostly 
forest,  leaping  unknown  falls,  slipping  swal- 
low-like athwart  whizzing  rapids  !  During 
the  glancing  ten  minutes  of  his  three-mile 
journey.  Garth  drank  so  deep  a  draught  of 
the  vigorous  splendor  of  existence  as  sweet- 
ened and  elated  him  for  many  a  day  there- 
after. 

Near  the  mouth  of  the  stream,  where  it 
hurled  itself  into  the  lake,  rose  a  rocky 
eminence  crowned  with  hemlocks.  It  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  latter  half-mile  or  so 
of  the  rapids,  and  was  nearly  on  a  line  with 
the  last  and  deepest  of  the  falls.  At  the 
moment  when  Garth,  rounding  the  bend 
above,  entered  this  stretch,  two  persons  were 
standing  on  the  eminence  beneath  the  shadow 
of  the  trees. 

"  Look !  look  !  "  exclaimed  one,  catching 
her  companion  by  the  arm  and  pointing  up 
the  stream.  "  He  has  done  it !  " 


GETTING  TO   WORK. 


53 


Onward  swept  the  slender  canoe,  now 
eclipsed  in  shadow,  now  leaping  into  moon- 
light which  gleamed  white  on  the  arms  and 
shoulders  of  its  rider.  As  he  came  near, 
his  face  was  distinctly  visible.  It  wore  an 
expression  of  composure  which  its  youthful- 
ness  made  impressive. 

"  I  knew  it  was  he ;  he  is  beautiful !  " 
murmured  the  female  voice  again,  excitedly. 

"  He'll  be  drowned — you  see!  "  returned 
the  other  in  a  surly  tone.  "  He'll  never  get 
over  this  fall  alive  !  " 

"  He  will !  He  can  do  what  no  one  else 
does.  And  if  he  does  do  it — " 

"  What  then,  eh  ?  " 

"Then  you  may  go  to  Europe  alone. 
There  will  be  no  one  like  him  in  the  whole 
world." 

"  You  go  with  me  if  he  gets  drowned  ?  " 

"  Yes ! " 

As  she  spoke,  the  canoe  was  within  thirty 
yards  of  the  verge  of  the  fall.  Her  com- 
panion sprang  suddenly  forward,  his  breath 
drawn  for  a  shout.  But  before  he  could 
utter  it,  the  girl  had  wound  one  arm  round 
his  throat,  and  was  pressing  the  other  hand 
over  his  mouth.  The  cry  was  not  entirely 
smothered,  however;  it  reached  the  boat- 
man's ears  just  as  he  balanced  on  the  critical 
edge,  half  in  water  and  half  in  air.  It  turned 
his  glance  aside  a  hair's  -  breadth,  and  the 
paddle  swerved  likewise.  The  canoe  leaped 
the  fall  a  trifle  aslant,  plunged,  and  emerged 
half  full  of  water. 

Recovering  his  balance,  Garth  hurtled 
onward  in  a  half-sinking  condition,  and  real- 
izing for  the  first  time  through  what  deadly 
peril  he  had  passed.  He  was  jostled  off  the 
peak  of  exaltation,  and  was  at  commonplace 
once  more.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  event 
that  had  broken  the  spell ;  but  looking  back 
upon  his  wild  voyage,  he  knew  that  in  a 
thousand  trials  he  would  never  again  accom- 
plish so  desperate  a  feat.  Meanwhile,  he 
had  reached  the  lake,  and,  paddling  hastily 
shoreward,  foundered  in  shallow  water. 
Leaping  out,  he  drew  the  canoe  to  the  sandy 
beach,  emptied  it  of  water,  and  then,  resum- 
ing his  seat,  paddled  quietly  round  the  point 
out  of  sight. 

The  girl  drew  a  long  breath,  and  leaned 
her  shoulder  against  the  stem  of  one  of  the 


pines.   But,  after  a  short  interval,  she  again 
stood  erect  and  looked  at  her  companion. 

"  You  must  go,  you  see,"  she  said.  "  Get 
into  your  boat  and  row  away.  You  might 
have  known  how  it  would  be ;  I  like  him 
best;  I  always  did.  I  shall  stay  with  him. 
I  shall  never  find  a  man  equal  to  him,  and  I 
don't  mean  to  try." 

There  was  an  ugly  gleam  in  the  eyes  of 
the  tall,  dark-visaged  youth  that  boded  the 
girl  no  good. 

"Do  you  know  I  could  kill  you  where 
you  stand  ?  "  said  he.  He  stepped  close  up 
to  her.  She  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  You  will  never  kill  me ;  yon  are  too 
much  in  love  with  me.  You  had  better  go, 
sir,  or  I  shall  hate  you." 

The  other  bit  his  nails  and  seemed  to 
hesitate  a  moment  or  two.  "  If  I  didn't  know 
you  better'n  you  know  yourself,"  he  said  at 
last,  "I  would  kill  you,  love  or  not!  But  I 
know  I'll  get  you  some  time.  We'll  see — 
we'll  see  !  I'll  get  you  at  last,  'nd  then  you'll 
say  you  were  a  fool  to-night.  Oh,  well, 
good-by  now !  But  I  know  you  better'n  you 
know  yourself." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GETTING    TO    WORK. 

GARTH  showed  the  next  morning  a  bear- 
ing so  much  more  cheerful  than  that  of  the 
previous  afternoon  that  his  mother  congrat- 
ulated him  on  the  improvement,  and  asked 
him  what  pleasant  dreams  had  visited  him 
during  the  night.  But  the  young  fellow, 
besides  his  aversion  to  rehearsing  his  own 
exploits,  knew  that  to  tell  his  mother  what 
he  had  done  would  be  to  give  her  a  fright 
which  the  sight  of  the  narrator  himself,  de- 
vouring a  huge  plate  of  buckwheat-cakes, 
would  only  partially  allay.  Accordingly,  he 
was  resolved  to  say  nothing  about  his  late 
voyage,  and  it  might  never  have  become 
history  but  for  Madge.  This  young  person 
came  up  to  Urmhurst  during  the  afternoon 
in  company  with  Parson  Graeme,  whose 
favorite  parishioner  she  was ;  and  when 
Garth  and  she  were  alone  together  she 
chanced,  by  an  apparently  accidental  allu- 


GAETH. 


sion,  to  lead  up  to  the  subject  of  the  canoe ;  r 
and  thereupon  was  presently  elicited  the 
whole  marvelous  tale. 

"You  didn't  see  anything  —  not  meet 
any  one — not  see  any  one,  I  mean  ?  "  asked 
she,  after  listening  restlessly  and  with  many 
sidelong  glances  till  the  end. 

Garth  shook  Ms  head  ;  but,  after  a  min- 
ute's reflection  he  said :  "  After  I'd  stowed 
the  canoe  away,  and  was  just  starting  home, 
I  thought  I  saw  a  boat  far  out  upon  the 
lake.  But  the  moon  dazzled  so  on  the  water 
that  I  may  have  been  mistaken." 

"  Yes ,  or  maybe  the  boat  sunk !  "  ex- 
claimed Madge,  a  sudden  light  coming  forth 
in  her  face,  and  giving  it  a  more  vivid  beau- 
ty. Then  she  laughed  and  said  :  "  You 
strange  boy !  why  didn't  you  tell  me  yester- 
day that  you  meant  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  think  of  it  till  after  you  went 
home." 

"  If  I'd  known  you  were  going  to  do 
it,  I'd  have  staid  with  you,  and  not  have 
plagued  you  so.  Well,  now  I  mean  to  tell 
everybody." 

"Pshaw!  don't,"  said  Garth,  turning 
red. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,"  she  said,  taking 
hold  of  a  button  of  his  coat,  and  looking 
gravely  up  in  his  face.  "  What's  the  use  of 
doing  fine  things  if  nobody's  to  hear  about 
them  ?  If  you  were  the  greatest  man  in  the 
world,  and  never  told  of  it,  how  could  I  be 
proud  of  you  ?  Why,  it's  better  to  be  over- 
estimated than  under-estimated,  you  silly 
Garth!  You  don't  know  what  you  may  lose 
by  always  holding  your  tongue." 

"  Nothing  worth  having !  "  answered 
Garth,  intractably. 

"That's  very  rude  and  unkind !  So  I'm 
nothing  worth  having,  am  I  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  I  love  you,"  returned  he,  with 
a  more  manly  earnestness  than  she  had  ever 
known  in  him  before.  "  You  speak  without 
thinking.  Yesterday  you  half  made  me  think 
you  had  stopped  caring  for  me." 

"  My  Garth,  you  know  I  always  loved 
you,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  feeling  very 
truthful  and  melting.  She  liked  him  to 
overbear  her.  "  You  don't  know  how  much 
I  have — would  do  for  your  sake,  Garth." 

"  You  could  not  do  more  than  love  me," 


answered  he,  and  the  observation  was  a  just 
one.  They  kissed  each  other  very  tenderly, 
and  then  went  into  the  room  where  the 
grown-up  people  were  sitting. 

"Here  he  is!"  thundered  the  mighty 
parson. — "  Come  here,  grandson.  We've  got 
a  proposition  to  make  to  you.  Now,  what 
have  you  got  to  say  to  it  ?  For  of  course, 
according  to  your  good  father's  usual  style, 
it's  to  be  left  to  your  own  option  to  take  it 
or  leave  it." 

Garth  was  standing  with  his  back  against 
the  door,  hand-in-hand  with  Madge,  and 
facing  the  company.  As  his  grandfather 
spoke,  the  color  mounted  slowly  to  his  face, 
and  his  eyes  sought  those  of  his  mother  first, 
and  then  his  father's. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  demanded  he. 

"  Nothing  very  terrible,  old  gentleman," 
said  his  father,  with  a  smile.  '*  We  were 
only  wondering  whether  your  worship 
would  condescend  to  go  to  college  next 
autumn." 

"  College  ? "  repeated  Garth,  in  an  in- 
ward tone.  He  felt  Madge's  hand  tighten 
on  his  own,  and,  looking  round  at  her,  caught 
a  sparkle  from  her  dark  eyes.  Evidently  she 
was  pleased  with  the  idea :  and,  after  Garth's 
less  rapid  mind  had  contemplated  the  pros-  • 
pect  for  a  minute  or  two,  he  also  began  to 
kindle  at  it.  He  threw  back  his  shoulders 
and  respired  a  mightier  atmosphere.  Col- 
lege meant  learning  —  scholarship  —experi- 
ence ;  the  means  of  becoming  wiser  and  bet- 
ter than  he  was.  He  had  yearned  already  to 
get  beyond  his  immediate  horizon,  and  had 
even  envied  Sam  Kineo  his  opportunities  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  the  world. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  leave  us,  my  child  ?  " 
asked  his  mother,  with  a  slight  tremor  of 
sadness  in  her  voice,  in  spite  of  her  effort 
to  make  it  cheerful. 

"I  ought  to  go  to  college,  mamma — I 
want  to  go !  "  answered  he,  eagerly.  In  the 
first  glow  of  feeling  he  could  not  anticipate 
homesickness;  much  less  enter  into  the  mis- 
givings of  a  mother's  heart. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  think  it  will  be  splendid," 
Madge  exclaimed.  "  Think  of  his  being  a 
collegian !  And  all  great  people  have  been 
to  college,  haven't  they,  Mr.  Graeme  ?  At 
least,  I'm  sure  you  and  Mr.  Urmson  went!  " 


GETTING   TO  WORK. 


55 


"  Come,  there's  a  compliment  for  you 
and  me,  son-in-law,  eh  ?  haw-,  haw,  haw ! 
—  Well,  well,  Miss  Maggie,  if  you're  in  favor 
of  it,  I  guess  that  would  be  enough  to  settle 
Garth,  even  if  he  were  less  ready  than  he 
appears  to  be;  ha!  ha!  ha!  So  that's  all 
fixed,  and  I'm  glad  of  it. — Shako  hands, 
Garth,  my  lad;  may  the  Lord  bless  and 
keep  you !  " 

"  Amen !  "  whispered  Mrs.  Urmson,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  and  a  smile  of  love  on  her 
lips.  Garth  kissed  her  cheek,  but  he  was  too 
much  of  a  man  now  to  hug  her,  as  he  longed 
to  do,  before  company.  His  father  said  : 

"  For  my  part,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
get  rid  of  him.  Four  years  of  peace  and 
quiet  are  not  to  be  despised  at  my  time  of 
life. — I  suppose  your  worship  won't  think 
of  coming  home  in  the  vacations  ?  " 

"  0  Mr.  Urmson !  he  must  come  back 
in  the  holidays,"  exclaimed  Madge,  so  naive- 
ly that  no  one  could  help  thinking  her  charm- 
ing. "  And  not  having  seen  each  other  for 
such  long  whiles  will  make  the  meetings 
pleasanter,"  she  said,  with  a  foresight  re- 
markable in  so  inexperienced  a  young  lady. 
It  made  Garth  feel  a  little  uncomfortable, 
and  he  looked  her  honestly  in  the  face ;  but 
all  he  could  see  there  was  a  wondrous  har- 
mony of  curves  and  colors.  He  sighed — a 
boy's  sigh — for  which  ho  would  have  been 
puzzled  to  give  a  reason. 

"  But  you're  forgetting  one  thing,  Miss 
Maggie,"  boomed  forth  the  parson  again, 
with  elephantine  playfulness  ;  "  the  best 
thing  of  all — love-letters ! — Ah !  Garth,  you 
rascal,  you'd  thought  of  it,  I'll  be  bound ! 
eh  ?  the  best  thing  of  all— eh  ?  ha !  ha !  " 

Garth,  thus  rallied,  turned  an  ingenuous 
red,  while  his  beautiful  little  mistress's  oval 
eyes  sparkled  in  arch  acknowledgment  of 
the  patriarch's  refined  humor.  She  had  the 
self-possession  which  is  like  ballast  to  a  fair 
vessel,  and  for  lack  of  which  many  a  fair 
vessel  dare  not  spread  her  sails. 

44  But  there's  one  thing  he'll  learn  to  ap- 
preciate while  he's  away,"  observed  Cuth- 
bert,"  with  a  gleam  of  mischief  in  his  clear 
face,  "  and  that's  such  a  sermon  as  he  heard 
yesterday.  He'll  hardly  hear  such  a  one 
from  the  Brunswick  parson  in  all  his  four 
years." 


"  True  enough,  son-in-law,"  responded 
the  guileless  Titan,  sobering  down  again  ; 
41  though  it's  no  doubt  a  good  man  they've 
got  there,  too.  But  you  see  it  takes  a  man 
who  has  been  in  his  pulpit  for  six-and-sixty 
consecutive  years,  and  never  missed  a  Sun- 
day— it  needs  a  man  like  that  to  preach  a 
sermon.  Bless  the  lad,  I  saw  him!  He 
didn't  know  what  his  old  grandfather  could 
do  for  him — eh,  Garth?  There,  there — 
never  be  ashamed  of  it !  I  liked  to  see  you 
warm*up  to  it,  and  the  tears  in  your  eyes ; 
it  showed  a  right  heart,  and  a  right  head, 
too  !  But  then  even  I  can't  promise  you  a 
sermon  like  that  every  week — no  !  no  1  " 

"  Garth,  have  you  shown  Miss  Madge 
that  new  tulip  of  yours?  "  Cuthbert  asked  ; 
and,  when  the  two  young  people  had  gone 
out,  he  resumed  :  "  It's  just  as  well  you  can- 
not, parson.  Garth  was  rather  too  power- 
fully affected  by  your  yesterday's  discourse. 
He's  more  impressible  than  you  might  sup- 
pose from  the  build  of  his  chest  and  shoul- 
ders. So  I  sha'n't  let  you  loose  upon  him 
often.  By-the-by,"  he  added,  before  the 
other  had  time  to  bring  himself  to  bear, 
"  what  were  you  saying  when  you  first  came 
in  about  there  having  been  a  fire  last  night  ? 
Not  the  meeting-house,- 1  hope  ?  " 

"  Ha !  Oh,  no.  It  was  my  old  witch's 
place.  Old  Ma'am  Nikomis's  wigwam." 

"  It  happens  opportunely.  I  engaged 
her  long  ago  to  come  and  rule  our  roast 
here,  so  soon  as  she  became  weary  of  pro- 
fessional witchcraft.  Garth  will  have  to 
give  up  housekeeping  for  study  now,  so  the 
old  lady  will  just  fill  his  place.  But  I  for- 
got to  ask  the  particulars.  Has  she  fallen 
out  with  the  black-man,  or  are  they  plotting 
new  deviltries  ?  or  what  is  the  secret  of  the 
conflagration?  She  was  not  scorched  her- 
self, I  trust?" 

44  The  poor  old  woman,"  exclaimed  Mar- 
tha, pityingly.  4'  I  suppose  she  must  have 
set  herself  afire  with  that  curious  tobacco- 
pipe  of  hers  that  she  is  always  smoking.  I 
hope  she  saved  some  of  her  belongings." 

44  Why,  here  she  comes?"  remarked 
Cuthbert,  who  was  seated  in  the  embrasure 
of  the  southwestern  window;  "and,  appar- 
ently, the  bulk  of  her  goods  and  chattels  are 
in  that  bag  on  her  back.  She  has  saved  her 


56 


GARTH. 


collection  of  scalps  among  other  things,  and 
has  got  them  festooned  around  her  person. 
"Well,  since  adversity  has  at  last  brought  her 
to  her  friends,  I'll  step  out  and  welcome  her 
home." 

Accordingly,  they  all  three  sallied  forth, 
and  stood  on  the  cloven  threshold,  awaiting 
the  old  squaw's  approach.  She  was  a  grim- 
looking  Indian,  somewhat  stunted  of  stat- 
ure, with  broad,  high  cheekbones,  and  narrow 
black  eyes.  Ugly  and  stolid  though  her  outside 
aspect  was,  akeen  observer  might  have  detect- 
ed signs  of  sagacity  and  purpose  beneath  it. 

"When  she  had  come  within  a  few  paces 
of  the  porch  she  halted — a  wild  and  savage 
figure  enough,  with  her  grizzled  black  hair 
hanging  round  her  shoulders,  her  beaded 
and  blanketed  costume,  her  dangling  scalps, 
and  her  bag  of  household  goods  slung  across 
her  back.  She  fastened  her  eyes  first  on 
the  parson,  and  then  on  Mrs.  Urmson ;  and, 
finally,  without  making  any  gesture  of  greet- 
ing, but  with  the  air  of  some  grotesque  sov- 
ereign announcing  herself  to  her  vassals, 
she  spoke  in  a  harsh,  guttural  tone  to  Cuth- 
bert. 

"Nikomis  a-come  !  "  said  she. 

"  You  are  welcome,"  replied  Cuthbert ; 
"  we  were  expecting-you.  Come  in !  " 

"  Come  in,  ma'am  !  "  vociferated  the  gi- 
gantic parson,  swinging  his  arm.  "  You're 
lucky  to  get  into  such  good  quarters,  I  can 
tell  you !  " 

Nikomis  paid  no  heed  to  this  observa- 
tion, unless  it  were  to  assume  a  yet  more 
haughty  bearing  than  at  first.  But,  after  a 
pause,  she  pointed  to  the  cleft  in  the  thresh- 
old, and  shook  her  head. 

"  Nikoinis  not  come  this  side,"  grunted 
she,  "  other  side — other  door !  " 

"  She's  heard  the  legend,  probably,"  said 
Cuthbert  to  the  minister,  in  a  low  voice," 
"and  is  superstitious  about  walking  over 
gravestones. — Let  me  conduct  you  to  the 
kitchen -door,  madam,"  he  added,  aloud. 
"  So  long  as  you  are  content  not  to  leave 
Urmhurst,  you  have  your  choice  of  en- 
trances." 

Nikomis  nodded  assent,  and  followed 
him  round  the  house.  On  the  kitchen-door- 
step were  seated  Madge  and  Garth  in  close 
confabulation.  Garth  rose  in  surprise,  but 


Madge  started  up  manifestly  disconcerted — 
as  became  a. young  woman. caught  in  a  ten- 
der predicament.  The  Indian  stopped  short, 
and  eyed  her  in  silence. 

"  I — thought  I  might  meet  you,"  said  the 
girl,  rapidly  recovering  herself.  "  You  must 
let  me  come  and  see  you  some  time.  I  could 
not  help  it !  " 

"  Nikomis  is  your  successor,  Garth," 
said  his  father,  at  the  same  moment.  "You 
are  deposed ;  surrender  your  keys,  and 
march !  " 

"  We  must  be  friends  though,  Nikomis," 
said  the  youth,  holding  out  his  hand  with  a 
smile ;  for,  since  his  fight  with  Sam,  the  old 
squaw  had  seemed  to  cherish  some  resent- 
ment toward  him,  and  he  wished  to  improve 
this  opportunity  for  reconciliation.  The  In- 
dian, however,  either  did  not  understand  the 
Christian  practice  of  hand-shaking,  or  else 
was  averse  from  friendly  overtures ;  at  all 
events,  she  passed  in  through  the  kitchen- 
door  without  appearing  to  notice  Garth  at 
all ;  and,  during  many  months  thereafter, 
she  hardly  vouchsafed  a  word  to  him. 

"  She  is  clean,  and  perfectly  upright,  I 
think,"  kind  Mrs.  Urmson  would  say  of  her 
strange  domestic.  "  I  only  wish  she  wouldn't 
smoke  that  pipe  while  she  is  cooking  dinner. 
But  she  cooks  some  things  very  well — espe- 
cially vegetables  and  soups." 

"  Witches  have  always  been  renowned 
for  their  broth,  you  know,"  Cuthbert  would 
answer.  "  But  what  captivates  me  is  her 
authoritative  bearing.  She  is  absolute,  and 
yet  makes  no  fuss  about  it.  I  feel  like  a 
tenant,  the  recipient  of  her  bounty.  I  am 
continually  grateful  at  not  getting  notice  to 
quit.  I  believe,  Cotton,  I  should  have  been 
a  happier  man  if  you  had  always  bullied 
me!" 

"  I  shall  have  time  now  to  knit  Garth 
enough  socks  and  mittens  to  last  him  all 
through  college,"  would  be  Mrs.  Urmson's 
conclusion. 

Cuthbert  was,  in  the  old-fashioned  sense, 
a  humorist,  and  took  pleasure  in  doing  kind 
things  which  brought  him  neither  fame  nor 
profit.  Nikomis  was  treated  with  considera- 
tion, and  paid  good  wages,  which  she  was 
never  known  to  spend.  By  day  she  brooded 
much  in  the  chimney-corner,  sending  puffs 


ANOTHER  ATTIC  MYSTERY. 


57 


of  tobacco-smoke  up  the  wide  flue  along 
with  the  savor  of  roast-meat.  At  night  she 
mounted  to  the  garret,  a  compartment  of 
which  she  had  fitted  up  in  wigwam  fashion ; 
but  what  she  did  there  it  would  be  rash  to 
affirm.  During  several  years  following  her 
domestication  at  Urrnhurst,  only  one  person 
was  suspected  of  having  visited  her  in  her 
den,  and  that  one  was  Madge  Danver.  But 
Madge  was  discreet,  and,  if  she  was  made 
privy  to  aught  strange  or  unlawful,  had  the 
wisdom  to  say  nothing  about  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ANOTHER   ATTIC   MYSTERY. 

GARTH  prepared  for  the  college  examina- 
tion under  the  tuition  of  his  father ;  he  al- 
ways got  his  lessons,  but  at  the  cost  of  much 
unnecessary  labor.  He  could  not  learn 
things  by  rote,  nor  profit  by  the  use  of  rules 
and  formulas  which  he  had  not  worked  out 
for  himself.  He  was  better  at  classics  than 
at  mathematics,  but  could  not  be  accounted 
great  in  either.  He  would  sigh,  and  stretch 
his  arms  over  his  books,  and  twist  his  hair 
into  a  matted  tangle,  and  anon  would  set-to 
afresh  with  stern,  immitigable  brow.  Then 
a  sudden  burst  of  sunshine,  or  a  bird-song, 
or  a  humming-bird  at  the  lilies  in  his  win- 
dow, would  sorely  try  his  resolution. 

Yet  it  was  the  methodism  of  books,  rather 
than  their  intrinsic  contents,  that  annoyed 
him.  His  mind  did  not  lack  capacity,  but 
flowed  not  easily  in  the  mould  of  other  men's. 
His  free  habits,  and  a  way  his  father  had  of 
making  him  answer  his  own  questions,  had 
given  him  independence,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  hindered  facility.  Ladders  only  em- 
barrassed him ;  he  would  prefer  to  climb 
the  tree  of  knowledge  as  he  had  climbed  the 
chestnut  at  the  picnic. 

Though  he  had  plenty  to  do,  Garth  con- 
trived to  reserve  the  evening  and  the  earliest 
morning  to  himself.  The  former  hours  he 
spent  in  society — that  is  to  say,  in  the  com- 
pany of  Madge,  of  his  parents,  and  of  the 
parson.  His  relations  with  his  father  had 
entered  upon  a  new  phase  of  late.  The 
spontaneous  confidences  of  childhood  had 


ceased,  and  the  youth,  sensible  of  inward 
changes,  whose  nature  and  purport  he  did 
not  wholly  comprehend,  had  spun  himself 
an  instinctive  cocoon  of  reserve,  which  the 
elder  religiously  respected.  But,  after  a 
while,  Garth  began  to  discover  that  he  re- 
mained essentially  the  same  fellow,  notwith- 
standing his  development,  and  yearned  for 
a  wiser  intimacy.  Perhaps  he  doubted,  at 
first,  whether  his  father  could  any  longer 
serve  him  as  counselor  and  guide ;  persons 
at  Garth's  time  of  life  being  apt  to  think 
that  their  problems  would  puzzle  anybody. 
Nevertheless,  when  Cuthbert  still  made 
shift  to  at  least  discuss  such  abstruse  mat- 
ters intelligently,  the  son  would  secretly 
marvel  at  the  possible  extent  of  human 
knowledge  and  experience ! 

Madge  often  accompanied  the  old  minis- 
ter to  Urmhurst,  and  was  charming  there. 
Her  mother  was  an  invalid,  her  father  over- 
fond  of  Bourbon  whiskey,  and  neither  could 
be  good  company  for  a  maiden  so  full  of 
life,  freshness,  and  innocence,  as  was  their 
daughter.  She  had  already  graduated  with 
distinction  at  the  village  school,  and,  most 
of  the  housework  being  done  by  a  char- 
woman, her  time  was  largely  at  her  own 
disposal.  Physically  speaking,  she  would 
have  been  an  ornament  to  any  community, 
and,  to  all  appearance,  she  was  as  good  as 
she  was  beautiful ;  though,  no  doubt,  there 
may  have  been  certain  narrow-minded  per- 
sons in  the  village  who  entertained  an  'un- 
reasonable prejudice  against  her.  But  the 
parson  was  always  her  champion. 

"  Look  how  cheerful  and  steady  she  is!  " 
he  would  bellow  out.  "  Any  other  girl  in 
her  shoes  would  mope  or  get  into  mischief. 
Ay,  there  are  gossips  about;  and,  if  they 
were  in  their  pews  as  regularly  as  my 
Maggie,  I  guess  I'd  read  them  a  lesson !  " 

"  She  is,  indeed,  of  a  happy  tempera- 
ment," Cuthbert  would  reply.  "And  she 
has  too  much  self-respect  to  dismiss  that 
charwoman  as  an  unnecessary  expense,  and 
injure  her  hands,  temper,  and  sensibilities, 
by  doing  the  work  herself." 

"  Well,  son-in-law,"  said  the  parson,  pro- 
foundly, "there  are  folks  in  this  world  who 
just  seem  made  to  make  other  folks  happy  by 
looking  happy  and  pretty  themselves.  That's 


58 


GARTH. 


their  work,  and  they're  not  called  on  to  do 
any  other." 

"  Oh !  if  only  I  had  been  born  pretty  and 
happy,"  sighed  Cuthbert,  "  how  1  would 
have  beatified  mankind !  " 

In  spite  of  his  irony,  however,  he  was, 
perhaps,  almost  as  much  captivated  by 
Madge  as  the  venerable  minister  himself. 
This  ironical  habit  of  his  was  mainly  intel- 
lectual, often,  no  doubt,  mechanical.  His 
heart  must  not  seldom  have  protested 
against  the  saturnine  judgments  of  his 
brain. 

Moreover,  as  regarded  the  Danvers,  they 
were  not  too  poor  to  afford  the  charwoman ; 
and  this  was  a  fact  which  Cuthbert,  who 
had  latterly  been  intrusted  with  the  care  of 
their  k'  estate,"  must  have  known.  One  of 
Mr.  Danver's  old,  half-forgotten  patents 
seemed  all  at  once  to  have  acquired  new 
life,  and  now  brought  in  a  yearly  sum  of 
money  that  made  the  family  income  more 
than  sufficient  for  their  bare  necessities. 
That  they  should  lay  up  anything  was  not 
to  be  expected ;  nor  was  it  reasonable  that 
Madge,  Garth's  wife  that  was  to  be,  should 
be  asked  to  perform  manual  labor  so  long 
as  it  was  possible  for  her  to  avoid  it.  Mr. 
tlrmson's  aspersions  were  uncalled  for.  He 
might  be  very  learned  and  clever,  and  lie 
was  popularly  believed  to  be  very  wealthy  ; 
and,  if  wealthy,  then  certainly  he  was  eco- 
nomical, almost  to  the  verge  of  stinginess. 
But  America  was  a  free  country,  and  neither 
Mr.  TJrmson  nor  anybody  else  had  any  call 
to  put  on  airs.  Such,  at  least,  was  the 
opinion  of  the  Urmsworthies,  those  of  them 
who  were  wont  to  settle  the  affairs  of  the 
world  at  the  corner  grocery,  between  the 
hours  of  seven  and  nine  every  evening. 
And  thus  it  may  be  seen  that  the  master  of 
TJrmhurst,  like  other  men  of  mark  before 
and  since,  was  not  honored  as  a  prophet  in 
his  own  country. 

Let  us  return  to  Garth,  whose  morning 
hours  have  yet  to  be  accounted  for.  When 
the  sun  rose  clear,  he  generally  took  his 
pleasure  out-of-doors ;  but  in  inclement 
weather  the  garret  was  his  customary  re- 
treat. He  had  a  den  there,  in  the  northeast 
corner,  which  was  kept  even  more  strictly 
private  than  Nikomis's  in  the  northwest; 


not  Madge  herself  could  guess  the  secret  of 
it.  Garth  would  enter  this  den  stealthily, 
locking  the  door  behind  him,  and  for  two 
or  three  hours  there  would  be  neither  sign 
nor  sound  of  him.  At  length  he  would 
emerge,  flushed  with  what  might  have  been 
either  shame  or  exaltation,  and  come  down 
to  breakfast. 

Yet  Garth  was  not  naturally  prone  to 
concealment,  and  we  can  only  suppose  that 
he  was  indulging  some  fond  weakness  or 
other,  which,  though  unworthy  of  him,  had 
insinuated  its  roots  so  deeply  into  his  affec- 
tions as  hardly  to  be  denied.  Such  indul- 
gences conceal  themselves  by  instinct,  and 
a  more  subtle  person  than  Garth  would  have 
veiled  even  the  fact  that  there  was  anything 
to  veil.  But  he  was  frank  in  the  midst  of 
his  reticence.  Perhaps  he  relied  on  years 
to  help  him  outgrow  his  folly,  whatever  it 
was.  As  the  last  weeks  of  his  home-life 
slipped  by,  however,  these  solitary  hours 
seemed  to  become  more  than  ever  precious 
to  him.  He  would  watch  the  sun  set  and 
rise  with  an  eager  look,  as  though  there 
were  to  be  no  such  things  in  college.  His 
early  love  of  the  beautiful  forms  and  colors 
of  the  world  took  on  a  kind  of  forlorn  ardor, 
and  he  laid  much  to  heart  a  sage  remark  of 
his  grandfather's,  that  "  boys  never  learned 
anything  by  doing  what  they  liked !  " 

"  I  like  to  look  at  your  face,"  he  said  to 
Madge,  "  and  yet  I  leam  something  from 
it." 

"  What  can  my  face  teach  you,  I'd  like 
to  know  ?  "  returned  she,  not  displeased. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  he,  vaguely,  and  drove  his 
heel  into  the  log  that  smouldered  on  the 
hearth.  It  was  a  habit  of  his  to  answer 
inconvenient  questions  with  that  monosyl- 
lable. 

"  There  is  not  much  more  time  left  for  it 
to  teach  you  anything,"  she  resumed,  un- 
willing to  let  so  pretty  a  topic  drop. 

Garth  sighed,  and  clutched  his  hair  mus- 
ingly. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  my  picture  painted 
for  you,"  she  remarked,  presently. 

u  No,  no !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  energy, 
adding  in  a  lower  tone:  "God  made  yon  ; 
what  man  has  a  right  to  imitate  your 
beauty  ? " 


AN  EXPLANATION. 


59 


"  Well,  you  are  in  a  mood  for  compli- 
ments to-day,  sir ! "  cried  Madge,  fairly 
flashing  with  pleasure. 

"  It  is  no  compliment  to  say  God  made 
you,  Madge,"  returned  he,  gravely.  "  But 
painting  is  irreverent." 

"  Irreverent  ?  You  strange  boy  !  "Why, 
Roman  Catholics  have  pictures  of  God,  and 
the  Virgin,  and  Christ,  and  angels  and  saints 
— my  father  has  told  me  of  them.  And  I 
would  like  to  have  my  portrait  painted  a 
hundred  times.  "Wouldn't  you  paint  me  if 
you  knew  how  ?  " 

Garth  kicked  the  log  into  a  hlaze.  "  I'm 
afraid  I  would !  "  he  said,  between  his  teeth. 
"  Oh,  it  would  be  lovely ! "  cried  she, 
resting  her  folded  hands  on  her  lap  and  gaz- 
ing wide-eyed  into  the  flame.  "  Your  paint- 
ing it,  I  mean  !  " 

He  moved  his  shoulders  impulsively,  and 
presently  said,  "  It  might  not  be  wrong  for 
Catholics ;  but  I'm  a  Puritan !  " 

"  Then  you  might  become  a  Catholic,  I 
think — just  long  enough  to  paint  me  !  "  she 
answered  with  a  laugh.  "  Now,  tell  me, 
Garth,  have  you  never  done  what  was  a 
little  wrong,  because  it  was  also  very  agree- 
able ? " 

"  Yes !  " 

"  Dear  me,  you  needn't  look  so  ashamed. 
For  my  part  I  think  things  are  all  the  more 
delightful  for  being  a  little — '" 

She  finished  the  sentence  with  an  arch 
suggestive  movement  of  the  head  and  hand. 

"  You  have  felt  it  too !  "  ejaculated  Garth, 
with  a  sort  of  dismay. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Garth,  and  so  did  Adam 
and  Eve ;  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  care  to  be 
better  than  they.  But  you  are  so  funny! " 

Hereupon  Garth  lapsed  into  a  b,rown 
study  that  put  an  end  to  the  conversation. 
But,  from  that  hour,  he  abstained  from  his 
attic  diversions;  locking  np  his  den,  and 
putting  the  key  in  his  pocket.  His  forbear- 
ance tried  him  severely,  though  he  still  ad- 
mitted no  one  to  his  confidence.  He  studied 
more  rigorously  than  ever,  but  with  less 
cheerfulness.  His  manner  became  moody 
and  apathetic ;  and,  in  short,  if  he  had  an- 
ticipated finding  virtue  its  own  reward,  he 
was  tempted  to  think  that  virtue  was  satis- 
fied with  very  little. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AN    EXPLANATION. 

IT  was  not  often  that  Urmsworth  sent  a  « 
student  to  the  university,  and,  for  two  or 
three  weeks  prior  to  Garth's  departure,  he 
was  a  prominent  personage  in  the  village, 
and  Madge  Danver  loved  him  all  the  better 
for  being  so.  A  few  days  before  the  last, 
Mr.  Urmson  and  the  parson,  assisted  by  half 
a  dozen  old  examination  papers,  put  the 
young  candidate  to  a  very  searching  test  of 
his  proficiency.  He  acquitted  himself  so 
well  that  his  grandfather  gave  him  a  sort 
of  preparatory  blessing — a  foretaste  of  the 
grand  final  one  which  he  was  to  take  with 
him  to  Bowdoin.  That  evening,  after  Garth 
had  gone  to  his  chamber  and  was  pacing  up 
and  down  the  floor  with  his  hands  behind 
him,  his  father  knocked  and  came  in. 

"Well,  beloved  Hottentot!"  was  his 
greeting,  " are  you  sleepy? " 

"Not  a  bit!" 

"Nor  I;  but  I  thought  that  a  little  talk 
with  an  expectant  freshman  would  probably 
make  me  so.  Well — are  you  as  glad  to  leave 
us  as  your  mother  and  Miss  Madge  are  to  be 
rid  of  you?" 

Garth's  only  response  was  a  somewhat 
sorry  smile. 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  to  do  in  col- 
lege ?  Shall  you  stand  in  the  first  ten  ?  or 
shall  you  do  what  you  will  find  many  of  the 
pleasantest  fellows  doing — see  life?  that  is, 
scrape  an  acquaintance  with  the  devil  ?  " 

Garth  thumped  his  foot  against  the  trunk 
upon  which  he  was  sitting,  and  answered 
dejectedly  that  he  didn't  think  he  should  do 
much,  either  good  or  bad. 

"  You  know,  old  gentleman,"  continued 
his  father,  "  that  I  have  never  interfered 
with  your  inalienable  Yankee  independence 
much,  and  I  sha'n't  begin  now.  But  there 
is  one  point  in  which  I  shall  have  to  impose 
a  restraint  upon  you,  and  that  is,  your  ex- 
penditure. I  shall  give  you  all  the  money 
there  is  to  give,  but  you  will  often  wish  you 
had  more  than  I  can  send  you." 

"  We  are  poor,  then?  " 

"I  believe  our  neighbors  think  other- 
wise, and  it's  true  that  your  grandfather, 


GO 


GARTH. 


Captain  Brian,  left  a  good  deal  of  money. 
But  all  of  it  cannot  be  said  to  belong  to  us, 
exactly." 

'•Whose  is  it?" 

Mr.  TJrmson  picked  up  a  window-stick, 
and  with  his  penknife,  which  he  always  kept 
very  sharp,  he  began  to. whittle,  in  smooth, 
slow  strokes,  as  if  the  stick  represented  the 
topic  which  he  was  about  to  discuss. 

"You  know,  Captain  Urmson,  your 
grandfather,  married  twice.  I  was  the  only 
child  of  his  first  marriage.  His  second  wed- 
ding came  twenty  years  after  his  first ;  Eve 
and  Golightley  were  born  in  the  two  fol- 
lowing years,  and  Mrs.  Urmson,  never  re- 
covering from  her  second  confinement,  died 
within  the  year  after  Golightley's  birth.  The 
captain  idolized  Eve,  as  you  have  often 
heard;  but  he  and  Golightley  could  never 
hit  it  off  together.  Golightley  was  always 
as  filial  as  pie ;  but  he  was  rather  a  sickly 
youth,  and  not  very  robust  in  character. 
As  he  grew  older  he  became  rather  a  senti- 
mentalist, and  was  apt  to  wax  eloquent  about 
aesthetic  culture,  and  the  True,  and  the  Beau- 
tiful, and  the  Good;  the  captain  called  it 
all  damned  nonsense." 

"What  did  you  call  it,  father?"  de- 
manded Garth. 

"I  only  heard  of  it  afterward:  I  was  in 
Europe  then — went  the  same  year  Eve  was 
lost,  and  only  came  back  ten  years  after- 
ward. I  think  your  grandfather  was  harsh 
and  unjust ;  but  he  had  never  been  used  to 
hide  his  opinions  or  pick  his  words.  Well, 
when  I  was  in  London,  shortly  before  my 
return  home,  I  happened  to  win  the  very 
good  will  'of  a  banker  there,  a  ridiculously 
wealthy  fellow;  he  offered  to  take  me  into 
his  office,  and  put  me  in  the  way  of  making 
a  fortune.  I  preferred  to  see  old  Urmhurst 
again ;  but  I  told  him  about  my  half-brother, 
and  was  allowed  to  accept  the  position  in 
his  behalf.  When  I  got  home  and  told  him 
of  it,  he  was  delighted ;  as  he  expressed  it, 
he  had  '  thirsted  for  Europe  all  his  life.' 
So  then  your  grandfather —  Are  you  in- 
terested?" 

Garth  clamped  an  affirmative  heel  against 
his  trunk,  and  Mr.  Urmson,  curling  off  a 
dexterous  shaving,  continued : 

"The  captain  made  no  objections;  but  j 


he  remarked  that,  since  he  would  probably 
never  see  us  both  together  again,  he  would 
read  us  his  will.  I  expected  to  get  the  house 
and  land,  and  supposed  Golightley  would  have 
the  ready  money  and  securities.  The  value 
of  the  estate — the  whole  property— amounted 
to  about  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Of 
this  the  captain  had  bequeathed  to  Golight- 
ley ten  thousand  dollars,  and  the  remaining 
nine -tenths,  including  Urmhurst,  he  had 
given  wholly  to  me." 

"  Hollo !  You  didn't  like  that,  did  you  ?  " 
said  Garth,  sympathetically. 

"  How  do  you  know  I  didn't,  sir  ?  At 
all  events,  the  captain  would  hear  of  no  al- 
teration then.  He  read  a  codicil  to  the  will, 
however,  providing  for  the  chance  of  Eve's 
ever  being  found,  or  any  descendants  of  hers 
in  the  first  generation.  In  that  case  Urm- 
hurst and  fifty  thousand  dollars  were  to  be 
given  up  to  them. 

"When  the  reading  was  over,  Golight- 
ley declared  himself  perfectly  satisfied,  and 
said  he  cared  not  for  money,  but  for  beauty ; 
and  that  as  for  Urmhurst,  had  it  fallen  to 
his  share,  he  would  have  wished  to  be  rid 
of  it ;  for  he  could  not  bear  to  be  tied  down 
even  in  thought  to  one  particular  spot  of 
earth.  And  no  doubt,"  observed  Mr.  Urm- 
son, arching  his  eyebrows,  "your  uncle  was 
in  earnest.  I  give  you  his  words,  so  that 
you  may  draw  your  own  conclusions.  But 
he  did  not  reflect  how  much  beauty  costs 
nowadays.  If  the  world  had  only  been  ar- 
ranged as  he  wished  it,  I  dare  say  he  would 
never  have  soiled  his  fingers  with  such  dross 
as  dollars  and  cents. 

"He  went  to  England,"  continued  Mr. 
Urrnson,  whittling  away  at  his  window-stick, 
"with  his  two  thousand  pounds,  and  I  mar- 
ried your  mother.  He  wrote  to  me  twice 
within  the  first  six  months;  he  had  been 
well  received  by  the  banker ;  declared  him- 
self positively  depressed  by  the  prospect  of 
vast  wealth  that  loomed  inevitably  before 
him;  envied  me  the  philosophic  calm  that 
could  endure  riches,  and  looked  forward 
with  longing  to  the  time  when  he  might  dis- 
burden himself  of  his  own  in  my  favor." 

"  Generous,  wasn't  he !  "  muttered  Garth, 
with  a  glow  of  appreciation. 

"  I  think  he  has  always  loved  the  beauty 


AN  EXPLANATION. 


61 


of  disinterested  behavior ;  but  inexperienced 
young  fellows  such  as  he  was  then  are  apt 
to  take  offense  at  the  practical  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  virtue.  His  second  letter  men- 
tioned ill  health,  and  talked  of  a  vacation  in 
Greece  or  Italy.  Four  months  later  came  a 
third  lefter  addressed  to  the  captain.  I  never 
caw  its  contents,  but  they  produced  a  violent 
effect  upon  your  grandfather. 

"  He  locked  himself  into  his  room  and 
would  admit  no  one  for  nearly  twenty-four 
hours.  We  could  hear  him  tramping  up  and 
down  the  floor  and  talking  to  himself.  Once 
in  a  while  he  gave  way  to  fits  of  rage — 
stamped  on  the  floor  till  the  house  shook, 
and  roared  out  oaths  which,  I  presume,  used 
to  do  duty  aboard  his  privateer  daring  the 
Eevolution.  At  last  he  came  out  haggard 
and  grim,  with  a  sealed  letter  addressed  to 
your  uncle  in  his  hand." 

"  "Why  did  I  never  hear  all  this  before  ? " 
demanded  Garth,  with  a  long  sigh  of  inter- 
est, as  his  father  paused  to  pare  off  a  par- 
ticularly thin  shaving. 

"  Well,  you  are  going  to  be  a  man  on 
your  own  account  now,  and  so  are  bound 
to  hear  of  whatever  concerns  the  family. 
But  you  will  have  to  rely  on  your  own  in- 
genuity to  explain  some  of  the  things  that  I 
shall  tell  you — at  least  I  can't  help  you. 
But  about  this  letter — I  afterward  had  rea- 
son to  believe  that  it  contained  a  large  draft 
in  Golightley's  favor.  It  was  abont  two 
months  after  this  that  your  grandfather  died. 
The  night  before  his  death— he  seemed  as 
\vell  as  usual  or  better — he  called  me  to  his 
room,  the  same  we  are  in  now,  and  began 
talking  about  his  second  marriage.  His 
wife,  as  you  know,  was  a  Golightley,  and  it 
cppeared  that  he  had  met  her  in  Virginia  so 
long  ago  as  1781.  He  had  landed  at  James- 
town after  an  unsuccessful  cruise,  at  the 
time  when  Arnold  and  Cornwallis  were  rav- 
aging the  country.  He  organized  a  band  of 
guerrillas,  his  lieutenant  being  a  brother  of 
Maud  Golightley's,  named  Rupert,  and  their 
headquarters  were  at  the  Golightley  man- 
sion. 

"  Your  grandfather  had  landed  under  an 
assumed  name — John  Dane — and  he  kept  it 
carefully  all  through.  He  and  Rupert  be- 
came great  friends.  Maud,  he  soon  learned, 


was  betrothed  to  a  cousin,  who  was  also  a 
Golightley.  Nevertheless,  she  fell  in  love 
with  John  Dane,  who,  I  imagine,  was  a 
splendid-looking  fellow  in  those  days — he 
was  then  about  twenty-three.  I  don't  know 
precisely  the  succession  of  events  after  this 
affair  (which  of  course  was  a  profound  se- 
cret between  the  lovers),  but  at  any  rate 
there  was  suddenly  a  violent  quarrel  be- 
tween your  grandfather  and  Rupert — who 
had,  perhaps,  fancied  some  insult  to  his  sis- 
ter from  something  he  may  have  seen — and 
the  Southerner  insisted  upon  a  duel.  So 
out  they  went — it  was  after  dusk — to  a  plan- 
tation of  trees  near  the  house.  Your  grand- 
father told  me  that  he  shut  his  eyes  when 
he  fired,  but  that  didnjt  prevent  his  shoot- 
ing Rupert  dead  with  that  old  pistol  hang- 
ing over  the  fireplace." 

Here  Mr.  Urmson  pointed  to  the  ungain- 
ly weapon  with  his  window-stick,  and  Garth 
stared  with  awe  at  the  antique  relic  which 
had  rested  in  its  place  ever  since  he  could 
remember.  It  had  killed  a  man ! 

"  When  he  had  got  to  this  point  in  his 
story,"  Mr.  Urmson  resumed,  "  your  grand- 
father paused  so  long  that  I  thought  he  was 
not  going  to  tell  any  more.  But  at  length 
he  went  on  to  say  that  the  report  of  the  pis- 
tol not  only  carried  death  to  his  friend,  but 
seemed  to  have  called  into  life  a  hundred 
enemies.  In  truth,  the  men  had  actually 
fought  their  duel  in  the  midst  of  an  ambus- 
cade of  the  English,  planned  to  sack  the 
house.  The  concealed  troops  had  witnessed 
the  duel,  and  now  rushed  forward  to  take 
prisoner  the  survivor.  But  he  so  desperate- 
ly laid  about  him  with  his  clubbed  pistol, 
that  the  redcoats  had  to  shoot  at  him;  a 
musket-ball  grazed  his  temple  and  knocked 
him  senseless,  and,  after  he  had  fallen,  he 
received  a  bayonet-wound  in  the  leg.  They 
left  him  for  dead,  and  when,  some  hours 
later,  he  and  Rupert  were  found  lying  side 
by  side,  they  were  supposed  to  have  fallen 
like  brothers-in-arms,  fighting  against  a  com- 
mon enemy.  Your  grandfather  with  diffi- 
culty revived,  and  was  told  that  the  house 
had  been  sacked,  and  that  Maud  Golightley 
had  been  shot,  whether  accidentally  by  the 
enemy  or  by  her  own  hand  to  escape  vio- 
lence was  not  known.  He  dragged  himself, 


62 


GARTH. 


in  agony  of  mind  and  body,  to  the  house, 
and  searched  it  from  top  to  bottom.  There 
were  some  relics  of  Maud  in  her  chamber, 
but  of  her  not  a  vestige.  They  had  left  him 
not  even  her  body.  He  told  me  that  in  the 
midst  of  his  agony  he  yelled  for  joy  to  think 
she  would  never  know  he  had  slain  her 
brother.  .  .  .  How  now,  beloved  Hotten- 
tot!" 

Mr.  Urmson  had  a  marvelous  voice,  ab- 
solutely controlled  by  a  highly-sensitive  and 
delicate  mental  organization;  humor,  pa- 
thos, or  appeal,  came  in  a  manner  transfig- 
ured from  his  lips.  But  to-night,  gradually 
kindled  by  his  story  to  a  mood  he  seldom 
suffered  himself  to  attain,  the  flexible  melo- 
dy of  his  low-spokea  words  had  filled  the 
scope  of  else  ineffable  emotion.  It  had  been 
too  much  for  Garth's  youthful  imagination, 
apart  from  his  being  a  descendant  of  the 
chief  actor  in  the  event.  His  heart  was 
melted  within  him,  picturing  forth  afresh 
the  anguish  which  had  passed  long  ago. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

GOLIGHTLEY. 

"  I  SUPPOSE  you  think,"  remarked  his  fa- 
ther, after  a  pause,  recurring  to  his  ordinary 
tone,  "  that  all  this  is  a  subterfuge  of  mine 
for  letting  you  know  why  you  won't  have 
enough  pocket-money  in  college.  It  is  a 
roundabout  explanation,  I  admit;  but  still 
it  consists,  as  I  will  show  you."  He  re- 
sumed his  knife,  which  had  dropped  idle  dur- 
ing the  last  few  minutes,  and,  applying  it 
to  the  other  end  of  his  stick,  continued  : 
"  Your  grandfather  made  his  way  to  James- 
town, and  reembarked  there,  leaving  behind 
him  (as  he  afterward  discovered)  not  only  a 
living  and  uninjured  Maud,  but  a  circum- 
stantial account,  which  reached  her  ears,  of 
his  own  death.  She  married  her  cousin  a 
year  or  two  afterward,  and  they  had  a 
daughter,  who,  if  she  be  living,  must  be 
about  my  own  age.  I  suppose  she  yielded 
to  this  marriage  in  the  indifference  of  de- 
spair ;  besides,  her  husband  was  wealthy, 
and  could  afford  her  any  kind  of  diversion. 
This,  at  all  events,  was  your  grandfather's 


subsequent  understanding  of  the  matter, 
though  he  did  not  so  account  for  his  own 
marriage  with  my  mother,  which  took  place 
about  the  same  time.  Mrs.  Golightley's 
husband  did  not  live  long,  and  the  widow 
and  her  daughter  remained  together  until 
the  daughter  was  married,  at  the  age  of  sev- 
enteen. It  must  have  been  about  this  time 
that  Mrs.  Golightley  happened  to  hear  that 
your  grandfather  was  still  living,  and  con- 
ceived the  rather  incautious  purpose — though 
it  seems  to  have  been  in  keeping  with  her 
general  character — to  disappear  from  her 
own  place  and  friends  and  hunt  him  up." 

"Did  she  go. without  their  knowing?" 
demanded  the  absorbed  hearer. 

"  So  it  appears.  She  had  already  settled 
the  bulk  of  the  fortune  left  by  her  husband 
on  her  married  daughter,  and  she  came 
North  alone  and  secretly — so  secretly,  in- 
deed, that  her  friends  believed  she  had  been 
the  victim  of  foul  play.  Luckily  for  her, 
she  found  your  grandfather  a  widower,  and 
disposed  to  marry  her,  even  after  nearly 
twenty  years.  I  must  confess,  however, 
that  the  story  has  always  seemed  to  me  in- 
complete, and  I  think  there  must  have  been 
circumstances  which  have  never  come  out. 
With  all  allowance  for  my  step-mother's  ro- 
mantic flightiness,  I  cannot  understand  her 
abandoning  the  home  of  a  lifetime  merely  on 
the  chance  that  a  man  whom  she  had  known 
but  for  two  or  three  months  in  her  girlhood, 
and  had  not  heard  of  since,  would  be  in  a 
condition  or  a  mind  to  become  her  husband. 
However,  so  it  turned  out." 

"  Did  she  know,  then,  that  his  name  was 
Brian  Urmson,  not  John  Dane  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  had  confided  that  secret  to  her. 
And,  by-the-way,  that  episode  brings  to 
light  a  curious  historical  coincidence.  Our 
old  English  ancestor,  Neil  Urmson,  whose 
steel  head-piece  you  used  to  wear,  was  in 
his  boyhood  on  terms  of  friendship  with  a 
certain  Reginald  Golightley,  son  of  the  Go- 
lightleys  of  Hertfordshire.  When  the  civil 
war  broke  out,  they  took  opposite  sides,  still, 
however,  remaining  personal  friends.  But 
they  quarreled  about  a  woman,  and  after 
that  they  used  the  great  war  as  a  means  to 
glut  their  private  hatred.  At  last  they  met 
in  the  battle  of  Naseby,  and  our  ancestor 


GOLIGHTLEY. 


63 


vanquished  his  enemy,  and  made  him  pris- 
oner. He  forced  him  to  accompany  him  to 
the  English  Urmhurst,  and  there  witness  his 
marriage  to  this  woman — who  was  no  other 
than  the  Eleanor  who  afterward  came  with 
her  husband  to  New  England.  Well,  in  the 
midst  of  the  marriage-service,  Reginald, 
breaking  loose  in  his  fury  from  the  men  who 
held  him,  snatched  a  battle-axe  from  one  of 
them,  and  aimed  a  blow  at  Neil's  head.  Neil 
had  just  time  to  interpose  his  pistol,  which 
broke  the  force  of  the  stroke  and  saved  his 
life ;  nevertheless,  the  blade  reached  his 
chin,  and  almost  cleft  it  asunder.  Then 
Neil,  with  the  blood  streaming  over  his 
breast,  leveled  his  pistol,  and  fired  through 
Reginald's  heart.  Was  not  that  an  uncer- 
emonious manner  of  treating  his  grooms- 
man? The  scar  of  Reginald's  blow  Neil 
carried  to  his  grave ;  not  only  that,  but  his 
son  was  born  with  it,  and  it  has  appeared 
occasionally  in  the  family  ever  since.  Yes, 
that  is  the  history  of  the  cleft  in  your  chin." 

Impelled  by  a  sudden  interest,  such  as  he 
had  never  before  felt,  in  his  own  counte- 
nance, Garth  walked  across  the  room  and 
examined  his  reflection  in  the  mirror  with  a 
kind  of  respectful  curiosity,  while  his  father, 
a  half-smile  curling  one  corner  of  his  mouth, 
went  on  with  his  whittling. 

"But  are  these  Virginia  Golightleys  of 
the  same  family  as  Reginald  ?  "  inquired  the 
youth,  on  returning  to  his  trunk. 

"They  are  descendants  of  Reginald's 
younger  brother,  who  emigrated  to  James- 
town in  1648  or  thereabouts;  and  the  pistol, 
of  coarse,  is  the  same  old  pistol  all  through. 
Now,  when  your  grandfather  landed  in 
Jamestown  a  hundred  and  thirty  years  af- 
terward, and  met  Rupert  Golightley  and  his 
beautiful  sister,  he  probably  thought  he  could 
not  do  better  than  keep  his  incognito ;  he 
had  enough  of  a  lover's  cunning  to  see  that 
it  would  be  more  than  likely  to  prejudice 
Maud  against  him.  However,  when  he 
was  sure  of  her  love,  he  avowed  himself  to 
her;  but  poor  Rupert  died  in  ignorance  that 
the  man  who  slew  him  was  his  hereditary 
enemy. 

"  Now  we  get  back  more  to  our  own 
times.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  your 
grandfather  was  extravagantly  fond  of  his 


second  wife,  and  one  cause  of  his  harshness 
to  Golightley  was  that  the  boy  had  been  the 
death  of  his  mother,  as  the  captain  put  it. 
Understanding  all  this  as  I  did — and  the  cap- 
tain made  no  concealment  of  it  —  1  was 
puzzled  by  his  final  words  to  me,  in  this 
room,  on  that  night  before  his  death.  He 
began  abruptly  to  speak  of  Golightley,  and 
of  the  letter  he  had  lately  received  from  him, 
and  which,  he  said,  he  had  destroyed.  I 
asked  him  whether  he  would  tell  me  its  con- 
tents ;  he  answered  between  his  teeth,  'No! 
not  if  I'm  damned  for  it ! '  which  was  only 
his  way  of  saying  '  No !  '  '  But  I  didn't  man- 
age right  about  the  will,'  he  said ;  '  if  Maud 
had  been  alive,  she'd  have  had  it  different, 
no  doubt.  After  all,  he's  her  son,  if  he  did 
kill  her.  I'm  no  friend  of  his,  Cuthbert — 
you  know  it ;  but  I  should  have  made  the 
will  different.  You  can't  bury  the  devil ; 
he'll  crop  up  somewhere !  We  must  give 
him  more  money  if  he  wants  it — do  you  hear 
me? — we  must  give  him  more  money.  I 
didn't  do  right ;  I  didn't — damn  me ! ' 

"  I  said,  '  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  the  will 
altered ;  but,  from  what  Golightley  wrote 
to  me,  I  thought  he  needed  nothing  less  than 
money.' 

"  '  I  won't  alter  the  will ! '  he  shouted 
out,  stamping  on  the  floor;  'I  say  I  won't 
alter  it.  He  may  die  before  I  do — who 
knows?  sickly  young  dog!  Ah,  if  Eve 
would  come  back,  that  would  settle  him ! 
Need  money?  You'll  see  he  needs  it!  and 
we  must  give  it  him — do  you  hear  me? — 
and  if  I  die  first,  you  must  send  him  what 
he  asks  for,  send  it  without  a  word.  No,  I 
won't  alter  the  will ;  I  won't — damn  me! ' 

"  '  But  in  that  case,'  said  I,  '  I  won't  let 
Golightley  or  any  one  else  bully  me  into 
giving  up  what  is  mine.  You  shall  give  me 
some  reason,  sir.' 

"  At  that  the  old  soldier  burst  into  tears. 
I  was  very  much  moved,  Garth.  I  had  not 
supposed  he  felt  so  much.  I  had  seen  him 
weep  only  twice  before — once  when  Maud 
died,  and  again  when  Eve  was  lost.  His 
sobs  shook  him  terribly,  my  dear  old  father ! 
He  said :  '  Don't  cross  me,  boy — don't  cross 
an  old  wretch  like  me.  I  love  you,  Cuthbert 
— I  loved  Maud  ;  I  ask  you  to  give  her  son 
whatever  he  may  ask  of  you.  He  may  die 


GARTH. 


soon — damn  him,  I  hope  he  will — but  don't 
cross  me,  boy !  Don't  ask  me  for  reasons ;  I 
have  none,  sir;  I  have  none.  Ask  your 
father  for  reasons  ?  Promise  me,  Cuthbert 
— promise  me,  boy,  that  if  he  needs  money, 
you'll  send  it  without  a  word  ! ' 

"  Said  I,  '  I  promise  it  shall  be  as  you  say.' 
I  saw  that  for  some  reason  he  was  too  much 
excited  for  any  argument  or  question  that 
night,  and  I  gave  him  the  promise,  expecting 
to  discuss  the  matter  afresh  next  morning, 
and  come  to  a  better  understanding  of  it. 
But  your  grandfather  was  dead  the  next 
morning,  and  who  can  tell  what  was  his 
secret  ? " 

"But  does  my  uncle  take  advantage  of 
such  a  promise — is  he  dishonorable?"  de- 
manded Garth,  with  an  indignant  flush. 

"I  fear,"  answered  Mr.  Urmson,  quietly, 
"that  wrong  has  been  done  whereby  both 
he  and  we  are  sufferers.  He  cannot,  I  am 
sure,  be  a  happy  man.  He  has  not  the  self- 
knowledge  to  correct  his  shortcomings, 
which  are  nevertheless  a  constant  pain  to 
him.  He  is  always  wanting  to  make  his 
friends  impossibly  happy,  yet  destiny  seems 
resolved  to  keep  him  their  beneficiary." 

Garth  began  to  twist  his  hair  reflectively. 
"  He  must  be  unhappy !  And  is  he  too  ill  to 
work  for  his  own  living?  " 

"He  seems  to  have  the  malady  of  ill- 
success.  He  conceives  vast  schemes,  and 
works  at  them  enthusiastically  for  a  while: 
they  need  money,  but  they  haven't  made 
any  yet.  The  truth  is,  Garth — you  are  old 
enough  to  hear  it  now,  and  it  is  known  to 
no  one  else — that  your  uncle  has  spent  the 
greater  part  of  our  income  for  over  fifteen 
years.  Sometimes  I  have  been  hard  put  to 
it  to  make  the  ends  meet.  It  is  easy  to  con- 
sider this  a  hardship,  and  no  doubt  I  might 
have  derived  a  certain  kind  of  satisfaction 
from  doing  so.  But  really,  though  it  has 
probably  benefited  both  sides,  it  has  been 
much  better  for  us  than  for  your  uncle.  We 
have  been  vastly  more  easy  than  he.  Your 
mother  has  had  her  heart's  fill  of  knitting 
and  darning,  which  wealth  would  have  lost 
her.  For  my  part,  I  have  become  quite  a 
valued  contributor  to  the  English  and  Ameri- 
can reviews,  not  to  mention  the  diligence 
with  which  I  have  prosecuted  my  history. 


As  for  you,  you  have  learned  how  to  sweep 
and  cook  and  clean  your  own  boots,  and  to 
plough,  and  to  cut  and  pile  timber,  none 
of  which  things  your  uncle  has  had  oppor- 
tunity to  learn,  though  affording  it  to  you. 
So,  under  guise  of  being  helped  by  us,  he 
has  been  secretly  doing  us  the  greatest 
good." 

"Ah,  but  he  doesn't  know  it,"  said 
Garth,  with  a  commiserating  sigh.  "If  he 
did,  he  would  be  happier.  Father,  what  do 
you  think  was  in  that  letter  he  wrote  to 
Captain  Urmson? " 

"I  don't  know,  Garth,  and  I  don't  want 
to.  As  things  are,  I  can  love  both  your 
uncle  and  your  grandfather.  It  is  never 
wise  to  look  too  hard  at  our  fellow-mortals. 
Few  are  entirely  beautiful." 

Garth  immediately  thought  of  Madge  as 
a  notable  exception ;  but  on  deeper  consid- 
eration he  fancied  his  father  might  have  in- 
tended something  less  obvious,  and  in  this 
doubt  he  kept  silence. 

"  So  now,"  observed  Mr.  Urmson,  whit- 
tling the  perorating  chip  off  his  stick,  "  you 
know  what  has  become  of  your  pocket- 
money.  Are  you  sleepy  yet? " 

"Father,  are  there  any  Golightleys  living 
now?" 

"  Unless  Maud  Golightley's  first  daughter 
be  alive,  none  that  I  know  of.  I  believe  she 
had  another  brother  besides  Rupert,  but  he 
must  have  died  long  ago.  If  he  left  descend- 
ants, I  never  heard  of  them." 

"I  hope  he  did  ;  for  our  ancestors  \\QYQ 
always  in  the  wrong,  and  if  the  Golightleys 
are  dead,  how  can  it  ever  be  righted !  " 

"It  might  in  that  case  be  considered,  at 
all  events,  settled,"  returned  Mr.  Urmson, 
with  a  smile.  "  But,  even  supposing  a  scion 
of  that  house  alive,  I  don't  see  how  he  could 
pay  off  his  debt  of  vengeance  except  by  kill- 
ing you  and  me  with  the  old  pistol,  and 
eloping  with  Mrs.  Urmson  afterward.  Ti< 
be  sure,  if  the  descendant  happened  to  be  a 
daughter  instead  of  a  son,  you  might  com- 
pound matters  by —  But  no,  on  second 
thoughts.  "Well,  good-night,  beloved  Hot- 
tentot, and  good-by.  I  sha'n't  bid  you  good- 
by  again  before  you  go ;  I  shall  leave  you 
entirely  to  Miss  Margaret.  Think  often  of 
your  mother  while  you  are  away.  She  will 


NEWS. 


65 


never  forget  you — and  even  I  may  remember 
you  once  in  a  while.     Good-by." 

They  shook  hands,  constrained  by  a 
whimsical  reserve  characteristic  of  Yankees 
and  Englishmen.  But  the  next  moment 
Garth,  with  a  glowing  impulse  peculiar  to 
the  hot-hearted  Urmsons,  who  could  never 
be  tamed  to  the  temper  of  their  surround- 
ings, took  his  father  in  his  stout  young  arms 
and  hugged  him  hard.  Many  noble  and 
pure  pledges  were  given  and  taken  in  that 
silent  embrace;  and  after  it  was  over  the 
two  felt  that  they  should  sleep  sound  and 
peacefully. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

NEWS. 

AFTER  two  or  three  days  of  superficial 
hurry  and  bustle,  oddly  contrasting  with  an 
inward  heavinesss  and  stagnation,  Garth 
found  himself  established  in  Bowdoin  Col- 
lege. At  first  sight  the  place  impressed  him 
as  desolate,  over-populated,  and  artificial; 
he  fancied  he  never  should  become  recon- 
ciled to  it.  He  was  continually  shocked, 
moreover,  at  meeting  faces  wholly  strange 
to  him.  Heretofore  he  had  considered  him- 
self a  stranger  to  many  of  the  dwellers  in 
Urmsworth ;  now  first  did  he  discover  the 
difference  between  not  recognizing  people 
and  not  knowing  them.  He  freshly  realized 
the  extent  of  his  human  dependence ;  and 
he  could  almost  believe  that  he  missed  his 
own  family  less  than  he  did  those  indifferent 
villagers. 

At  the  moment  of  parting,  good-by  had 
been  easily  said;  but  afterward  he  perceived 
that  his  mood  had  been  shallow,  and  he  wished 
he  had  taken  the  occasion  more  to  heart.  That 
familiar  circle  at  Urmhurst — how  plainly  it 
lived  in  his  reverie!  There  sat  his  father, 
reading  in  the  ancestral  arm-chair,  whose 
ponderous  build  contrasted  quaintly  with 
the  slender  proportions  of  the  tranquil,  keen, 
clear-visaged  man.  Here  moved  his  mother, 
demurely  cheerful,  in  her  white  cap,  soft- 
handed,  light-footed,  low -voiced,  with  a 
sweet  solidity  of  figure  and  aspect.  Now 
enters  the  frequent  parson,  huge,  rejoicing, 
with  snowy  summit  and  accents  of  thunder, 
5 


but  bending  a  little  of  late  beneath  his 
eighty-seven  stalwart  years.  Anon  behold 
Madge,  with  her  picturesque  and  piquant 
"  toilets,"  as  she  styles  them,  her  vigorous, 
symmetrical  little  figure,  her  slender,  oval 
face,  with  its  vivid  hues,  long,  sparkling  eyes, 
and  mobile  mouth ;  her  self-possessed  yet 
winning  manners.  Garth  wished  for  her 
more  than  for  the  others,  though  whether  it 
were  because  he  needed  her  more,  or  because 
of  an  obscure  misgiving  as  to  whether  he 
felt  the  loss  of  her  enough,  was  a  question 
which  might  give  him  pause. 

By-and-by  the  harshness  of  the  desola- 
tion wore  away.  It  was  consoling  to  find 
thirty  or  forty  young  fellows,  his  immediate 
associates,  in  no  cheerfuler  predicament  than 
himself.  Moreover,  there  was  work  to  do, 
though  not  so  much  or  so  difficult  as  he  had 
expected.  The  novelty  of  the  situation,  the 
fixed  hours,  the  punctual  bells,  the  rigid 
tutors,  and  the  stimulus  of  the  crowded 
class-room,  long  served  to  keep  the  son  of 
the  woods  self-forgetfully  surprised.  At  first 
he  had  stood  apart  by  himself,  in  the  per- 
suasion that  he  was  one  unit  and  the  rest  of 
the  university  another,  mutually  repellent. 
Afterward  he  came  into  possession  of  two 
or  three  unprecedentedly  sympathetic  friend- 
ships, and  from  these  advanced  with  naive 
precipitance  until  he  had  met  the  whole 
class,  man  by  man.  They  all  liked  him. 
Garth  hardly  understood  this,  or,  rather,  he 
took  it  for  a  matter  of  course  that  classmates 
must  like  each  other.  It  was  not  that  he 
was  exceptionally  attractive,  but  all  the  fel- 
lows were  good  and  charming. 

In  fact,  however,  Garth  was  not  long  in 
becoming  both  distinguished  and  influential. 
As  often  happens,  it  was  the  oppression  and 
insufferable  arrogance  of  the  sophomores 
that  brought  his  more  engaging  qualities  to 
the  surface.  At  first  his  modest  allowance 
of  the  superior  claims  of  age  and  experience, 
and  his  cordial  deference  to  legitimate  au- 
thority, tended  to  put  his  temper  in  a  false 
light.  "When  half  a  dozen  young  gentlemen 
of  the  upper  class  visited  his  room,  Garth 
closed  his  books  and  received  his  guests  with 
respectful  courtesy.  He  was  flagrantly  fresh 
— greener  than  he  there  was  not;  neverthe- 
less, something  in  the  set  of  his  features,  and 


66 


GARTH. 


a  kind  of  straightforward  reserve  in  his 
manner,  had  virtue  to  keep  the  half-dozen 
within  bounds  for  a  while.  They  sounded 
him  with  fathoms  of  solemn  fabrication, 
most  of  it  time-honored  stock ;  he  listened 
with  such  grave  acceptance  and  brief  replies 
that  they  somewhat  misdoubted  the  sincerity 
of  his  guilelessness.  At  length  one  of  their 
number,  who  had  an  unfortunate  talent  for 
sallies  of  the  Rabelais  order,  let  loose  a  salvo, 
of  which  Garth  understood  enough  sharply 
to  disgust  him. 

He  got  up,  with  a  glance  at  the  offender 
of  such  plentiful  dislike  that  the  latter's 
countenance  changed  a  little,  and  for  a  few 
moments  there  was  a  dramatic  silence. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  then  quoth  Garth,  "  but 
you  must  go  out." 

"  Hoity-toity,  freshman  !  Keep  a  civil 
tongue  for  your  betters,  sir." 

At  this  Garth  glared  round  at  the  other 
faces ;  all  seemed  to  support  the  cause  of 
indecency.  Despite  his  guilelessness,  he  was 
anytliing  but  thick-witted,  and  in  a  flash  he 
eavv  through  the  sham  of  these  tall-talking 
visitors,  and  reddened  to  the  back  of  his 
neck  with  resentment.  He  stepped  passion- 
ately to  the  door,  hurled  it  open,  and  con- 
fronted the  six — short,  square,  and  darksome 
— but  with  a  spirit  in  him  that  might  have 
overtopped  Parson  Graeme's  seven  feet. 

"  Get  out— all  of  you !  "  he  growled, 
flinging  back  his  arm  toward  the  doorway, 
and  imperiously  stamping  his  foot. 

Every  youth  rose  to  his  feet.  Some 
looked  grave,  others  laboriously  laughed ; 
only  the  disciple  of  Rabelais — a  youth  scarce 
•  Garth's  better  in  height,  and  far  his  inferior 
in  brawn — fired  up,  and  haughtily  swore  he 
•would  stand  no  insolence  from  a  freshman. 
He  made  up  to  Garth,  and  aimed  a  hearty 
blow  at  him.  It  was  partly  parried,  yet 
slightly  touched  the  cheek.  Garth's  pulse 
beat  murder  once ;  but  he  had  not  forgotten 
the  lesson  of  Sam  Kineo.  Suddenly  griping 
the  warlike  sophomore  by  both  arms,  he 
faced  him  at  short  range. 

"Don't  fight  for  unclean  words;  they'd 
(beat  you  beforehand." 

Having  driven  this  sentence  into  his  an- 
tagonist, he  loosened  him;  and  the  latter, 
Tvbether  admonished  by  the  startling  force 


of  Garth's  clutch  or  by  the  solidity  of  his 
argument,  did  not  strike  again.  His  com- 
panions, who  had  hitherto  looked  on,  appar- 
ently not  unwilling  to  behold  a  fight,  now 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  invaded  party. 

"Better  let  that  freshman  alone,  Jack 
Selwyn,"  remarked  the  biggest  of  them. 
"  He  could  have  shaken  your  head  off  if  he'd 
wanted  to." 

"  Freshy  had  the  right  of  it,  too,"  af- 
firmed another,  off-handedly.  "  No  business 
to  hit  a  fellow  for  not  liking  smut !  " 

"Guess  we'll  take  our  young  friend's 
hint,"  exclaimed  a  third,  cheerfully. — "  Come 
on,  men,  we've  plenty  more  calls  to  make 
this  evening.  By -by,  Freshy ;  if  you  live 
long  enough,  you'll  be  a  missionary  and  con- 
verb  the  heathen.  Sorry  we  can't  spend  the 
night  with  you ;  try  to  some  other  time." 
Thus  they  filed  out,  peacefully  enough  ;  Sel- 
wyn  last,  and  seemingly  half  inclined  to  stay 
and  have  it  out  with  the  grim  freshman  in 
private.  But  the  others  pulled  him,  laugh- 
ing, away,  and  Garth  was  alone  again,  lie 
too  itched  for  battle,  though  in  his  first  re- 
view of  the  affair  he  was  not  altogether 
clear  whether  or.  not  he  was  justified  in 
treating  his  guests  so  cavalierly.  But,  after 
lying  awake  all  night  to  discuss  the  question, 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  not 
done  amiss,  and  this  honest  conviction  went 
far  to  soothe  the  sting  of  the  blow  he  had 
received.  But  the  restraint  put  on  himself 
had  wrenched  his  sensibilities;  the  un- 
quenched  embers  of  wrath  fevered  his  blood. 
Though  he  might  not  regret  his  forbearance, 
he  would  shun  the  future  exercise  of  so  un- 
comfortable a  virtue.  Thought  he :  "I  won't 
be  so  angry  next  time,  no  matter  how  much 
they  are  in  the  wrong;  then  I  can  fight 
without  fear  of  killing  them !  " 

This  was  satisfactory,  and  Garth  attended 
morning  recitation  cheerful  in  the  prospeci 
of  good-tcmperedly  thrashing  a  sophomore 
ere  nightfall.  But  he  reckoned  without  hie 
host.  His  adventure  had  already  got  wind, 
and  he  was  puzzled  to  find  himself  a  hero,  a 
champion — the  freshman  who,  single-footed, 
had  kicked  an  army  of  tyrants  out  of  his 
room. 

"  They  went  of  themselves ;  I  only  told 
them  to  go,"  he  explained  to  his  admirers. 


NEWS. 


67 


But  his  reputation  was  made,  and  the  fact 
that  the  sophomores  (whether  hy  chance  or 
design)  uniformly  kept  out  of  his  way  con- 
firmed it.  Moreover  —  for  college  youths 
are  especially  susceptible  to  a  vigorous  ex- 
ample on  the  manly  side  —  his  classmates 
•were  inspired  by  his  exploit  to  offer  so  in- 
trepid a  front  to  oppression  that  hazing 
that  season  had  but  a  short  and  uneasy  life 
of  it. 

Although  this  episode  gave  Garth  a  social 
impetus  at  first,  its  final  effect  was  in  a  con- 
trary direction.  He  began  with  opening  his 
heart  warm  and  wide  to  all  comers  ;  but  he 
found  out,  earlier  than  most,  what  rare  birds 
friends  are.  His  circle  of  intimates  was 
always  contracting.  He  wanted  his  com- 
panion to  be  at  least  as  fine  as  the  landscape; 
and,  after  repeated  disappointments,  he  be- 
came deliberately — instead  of,  as  heretofore, 
involuntarily — reserved.  His  lovers  found 
him  on  one  or  another  ground  impractica- 
ble, and  gave  him  up.  He  was  too  quick 
to  see  that  men  were  not  pure  gold,  too 
loath  to  accept  good  working  alloys.  He 
was  getting  experience  at  once  too  slowly 
and  too  fast. 

It  is,  however,  noticeable  (and  it  attract- 
ed remark  at  the  time)  that  the  only  under- 
graduate with  whom  by  the  end  of  the  year 
Garth  distinctly  fraternized  was  no  other 
than  the  Jack  Selwyn  whose  first  interview 
with  young  Urmson  had  been  so  unpropi- 
tious.  Some  months  after  the  scene  in 
which  he  had  played  scapegoat,  Selwyn 
renewed  the  acquaintance,  and  seemed  to 
find  his  account  in  keeping  it  up.  Garth,  at 
first  shy,  later  turned  and  met  him  half-way. 
So  incongruous  a  friendship  was  generally 
ridiculed.  Selwyn,  who  belonged  to  what 
was  called  the  fast  set,  was  rallied  for  Puri- 
tanism. Sad-browed  Garth  was  analyzed  as 
a  secret  libertine.  But  it  may  be  conject- 
ured that  these  diverse  characters  attracted 
each  other's  best  side,  and  fattened  upon 
mutual  unlikeness.  Selwyn  was  a  fellow  of 
fire  and  ability,  and  his  eighteen  years  had 
seen  a  strange  variety  of  life.  He  was  cursed 
with  a  rakish  devil  which  he  could  not  con- 
trol; but  he  had  heights  and  lights  as  well 
as  depths  and  blots,  and  the  contrasts  in  him 
were  picturesque.  He  loved  Garth's  pas- 


sionate steadiness  of  character.  Garth  loved 
his  swift  light  and  shadow,  his  struggle,  his 
weakness,  and  his  well-told  adventures.  At 
all  events,  the  friendship  lasted. 

Meanwhile  books  and  recitations  were 
not  neglected.  But  Garth  a  little  mystified 
his  instructors.  They  were  sometimes  in 
doubt  as  to  whether  he  knew  more  or  le^s 
than  was  set  down  for  him.  He  often 
seemed  better  versed  in  commentaries  and 
parallel  readings  than  in  the  lesson  itself  of 
the  day.  Parts'  of  a  subject  would  attract 
him,  and  he  would  follow  them  down  to  the 
root  with  curious  zeal,  merely  skimming  the 
surface  of  the  rest.  His  translations  from 
the  classics  were  sometimes  quaintly  felici- 
tous, though  always  very  free  and  idiomatic. 
Algebraic  generalizations  were  distasteful 
to  him ;  he  loved  vivid  particulars ;  and 
though  the  sublime  developments  of  the 
higher  geometry  attracted  him,  he  never 
could  forgive  the  petty  inductive  steps  which 
must  lead  him  thither.  He  still  abhorred 
formulas,  and  smacked  his  lips  over  individ- 
uality. He  occasionally  took  strange  liber- 
ties with  the  tutors  and  professors  in  class, 
but  with  so  grave  a  front,  and  in  general  so 
aptly  to  the  matter  in  hand,  that  they  could 
not  count  it  impertinence. 

In  fact,  Garth  was  learning  his  college 
lessons  least  of  all;  but  the  black  and  white 
lore  of  the  world  was  entering  him  at  all 
points,  and  putting  him  in  a  manner  beside 
himself.  Life  no  longer  seemed  a  private 
affair  between  himself  and  his  God,  but  there 
were  as  many  modes  and  opinions  of  life  as 
there  were  men.  It  was  amazing  how  wide- 
ly human  principles  could  differ!  People 
begin  with  expecting  harmony  in  those  they 
meet,  and  discord  is  the  saddest  discovery. 
"  To  what  end,"  wondered  Garth,  "does  Om- 
nipotence permit  such  a  waste  of  force? 
Men  thwart  one  another  and  misunderstand 
and  run  amuck,  when  a  little  economy  and 
accord  would  bridge  the  universe." 

But  the  young  man  had  not  the  instinct 
of  a  reformer.  If  he  preached,  it  was  to 
himself,  and  the  only  affairs  he  undertook  to 
regulate  were  his  own.  No  doubt  he  be- 
lieved that,  as  regarded  fundamental  moral 
principles,  he  was  right,  and  all  who  dis- 
puted him  were  wrong.  But  Garth's  prin- 


68 


GARTH. 


ciples  had  little  to  do  with  his  intellect ;  he 
would  never  discuss  a  truth  which  he  had 
felt — unlike  Selwyn,  who  was  for  putting  a 
why  to  everything.  This  bigotry  as  to  the 
main  axioms  of  conduct  is  not  seldom  the 
sign  of  a  strong  nature.  It  is  called  stupid- 
ity by  volatile  people,  whose  very  sediment 
is  stirred  by  all  breezes.  But  deep-set  men, 
whose  foundations  no  storm  can  reach,  who 
never  seem  to  move,  are  the  rocks  whereby 
the  world  climbs  upward.  They  play  games 
with  their  intellect,  but  do  their  serious  busi- 
ness by  dint  of  something  else. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  be,  after  gradu- 
ating, Urmson?"  was  frequently  Selwyn's 
inquiry. 

"  If  I  knew,"  the  other  would  reply,  "  I 
wouldn't  wait  to  graduate." 

"Lawyer,  doctor,  parson,  grocer,  pirate, 
president,  gold-digger  ? " 

Garth  shook  his  head. 

"  You'd  make  a  good  pirate,  if  you  once 
got  started.  I'd  be  your  first-mate,  and  ar- 
range the  skulls  and  bones  on  the  cabin- 
walls.  "Was  chased  by  a  pirate  once,  in  the 
Pacific,  and  wished  I  was  aboard  her,  with 
a  knife  between  my  teeth,  and  the  devil  for 
captain." 

"It  needs  brains  to  bo  a  devil,"  said 
Garth,  "  so  I  wouldn't  do." 

"Oh,  wickedness  sharpens  the  wits;  it 
would  clear  you  up  wonderfully.  The  fel- 
lows say,  now,  that  you're  a  good-for-noth- 
ing, lazy  chap ;  that  you're  well  as  far  as  you 
go,  but  that  the  important  cog  is  left  out  of 

you." 

"  The  cog's  left  out,"  repeated  Garth,  ab- 
stractedly, clutching  his  hair. 

"What  do  I  think  of  yon,  backwoods- 
man? Let  me  smoke,  and  I'll  tell  you." 

"  Go  ahead." 

"  Try  a  pipe  yourself,  Garth.  Oh,  very 
well ;  but  you  were  born  for  a  smoker,  and 
you'll  smoke  yet,  when  your  cog  is  in  gear. 
That  reminds  me — it's  not  left  out,  only  out 
of  gear." 

"  That  opinion  isn't  worth  a  pipe." 

"  I  knew  before  that  you  were  stupid  and 
ill-mannered,  and  you  don't  deserve  to  hear 
it;  and,  if  I  thought  you'd  believe  it,  I 
wouldn't  tell  you.  But,  after  all,  they're 
said  to  be  the  unhappiest  of  men,  as  a  rule, 


and  you'll  hardly  be  an  exception.  So  here 
goes!"  said  Selwyn,  puffing  away. 

"What?" 

"  Hear  me  in  all  seriousness.  You  are  a 
genius,  my  poor  friend.  The  secret  is  out, 
Garth  :  you  are  a  genius !  " 

"Genius  for  what?" 

"  That  is  your  business ;  but  you  will  do 
something  as  it  has  never  been  done  before. 
Your  stupidity  results  from  unrecognized 
genius.  Genius,  my  man,  is  a  sort  of  magic 
tail,  which,  before  you  get  the  hang  of  it, 
trips  you  up,  and  weighs  you  down,  and 
makes  you  disagreeable  to  everybody  you 
meet.  But  once  you  learn  how  to  wag 
it,  and  not  all  the  kangaroos,  beavers,  and 
peacocks  in  creation  can  come  near  you. 
You  understand  me,  of  course,  figurative- 
ly." 

"  I  don't  understand  you  at  all." 

"  You  are  a  genius — one  of  the  best  kind, 
the  unconscious.  There  is  an  horizontal  de- 
pression athwart  the  centre  of  your  forehead. 
You  believe  in  things,  without  arguing,  more 
potently  than  I  can  after  being  logically  con- 
vinced. You  are  not  only  an  individual,  but 
a  unique ;  nothing  comes  out  of  you  or  goes 
into  you  the  same  as.  with  other  people. 
Now  I'm  a  man  of  talent,  the  reverse  of  a 
unique.  I  see  and  do  things  in  the  hack- 
neyed old  ways,  only  better  than  most  peo- 
ple. I  can  do  a  lot  of  things  better  than 
you  can  do  anything — except  that  one  thing 
you  have  a  genius  for.  In  short,  your  im- 
mediate ancestor  was  Adam,  or  Noah,  or  the 
archangel  Gabriel — some  one  of  those  primal 
fellows ;  whereas  I  am  what  is  called  a  su- 
preme product  of  civilization.  D'ye  see?  " 

"  When  did  you  make  this  discovery  ?  " 

"  When  I  punched  your  head,  six  months 

ago.  D you,  Garth  Urmson,  how  you 

did  hold  on  to  me !  When  I  was  sixteen,  in 
Madrid,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  a  flirtation 
(one  of  my  first  serious  ones)  with  a  fair 
seilorita — well,  one  night  the  other  fellow — 
there  always  is  another  fellow  in  Spain — 
jumped  out  at  me  with  his  knife.  He  pricked 
me  in  the  arm  the  first  thing,  and  afterward 
in  the  hip  ;  but  I  wasn't  a  bit  afraid  of  him, 
but  sailed  in  and  half  killed  him.  Till  you 
took  hold  of  me  that  night  I  never  was  afraid 
of  anything — do  you  hear  ?  But  when  you 


NEWS. 


69 


set  that  infernal  black  face  of  yours  in  front 
of  me,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  melted  sealing-wax, 
and  you  had  stamped  your  own  ugly  features 
on  me  for  a  seal.  It  was  horrible.  There 
was  nothing  of  me  left  in  me,  but  I  seemed 
changed  into  you  ;  and  still  there  was  enough 
of  me  left  to  be  frightened.  I  didn't  get  over 
it  for  days;  I  was  always  running  to  the 
looking-glass  to  see  whether  it  was  your 
head  or  mine  that  was  on  my  shoulders." 

"  Well,  Selwyn !  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  if  you  hadn't  been  a 
regular  primeval  devil,  or  angel,  or  what- 
ever else  you  choose  to  call  a  genius,  that  I 
wouldn't  have  broken  loose  and  thrashed 
yon,  if  you'd  been  ten  times  as  strong?  But 
I  saw  your  horns  and  tail,  and  your  heav- 
enly pinions,  and  I  had  to  give  in.  I  knew 
you  then." 

"Then  why  don't  I  know  me?"  de- 
manded Garth,  getting  up  with  glowing 
eyes,  and  his  hair  on  end. 

"Because  there's  too  much  for  a  boy  of 
your  age  to  know.  You'd  run  away  with 
yourself,  and  tear  yourself  to  pieces.  Wait 
till  you're  old  enough." 

"  Selwyn  —  you're  in  earnest  ?  "  said 
Garth,  breathing  deeply. 

''Yes,  by  God,  I  am  !  " 

"  Genius !  "  continued  the  other,  walking 
up  and  down  the  room  in  a  kind  of  re- 
strained tumult.  "  I  have  felt  sometimes  as 
though  I — no,  as  though  the  earth  were  my 
body,  and  I  saw  through  it,  and  lived  through 
it,  and  understood  it,  just  as  I  do  my  human 
bod}-.  It  never  lasted  but  a  few  minutes, 
but  then  I  was  as  strong  as  the  whole  world, 
and  as  happy  as  heaven." 

Selwyn  smoked  in  silence. 

"  If  that  could  last !  "  said  Garth,  stop- 
ping, and  doubling  his  fists  at  his  sides — "  but 
afterward  I'm  as  lazy  and  shapeless  as  a  bag 
of  sand.  But  if  that  was  genius,  I'll  ques- 
tion it  next  time  !  All  I  tli ought  was  to  en- 
joy it.  But  genius  for  what?  " 

"  You  seem  to  think,"  returned  Selwyn, 
on  being  thus  vehemently  addressed,  "  that 
because  I've  given  you  a  glimpse  of  your 
hidden  treasure,  I'm  bound  to  tell  you  what 
you'll  spend  it  for.  What  the  devil  is  that 
to  me  ?  If  you  could  benefit  me  with  it, 
'twould  be  another  mutter.  But  if  you  had 


the  genius  of  Solomon  and  Kaphael  and 
Praxiteles,  all  rolled  into  one,  it  would  never 
benefit  any  one  but  yourself.  No  man  ever 
helped  another  yet  —  not  even  helped  to 
damn  him !  We're  made  selfish,  and  we're 
never  so  selfish  as  when  we  try  to  be  gener- 
ous. Good  joke,  isn't  it  ?  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Garth  looked  with  curious  compassion  at 
his  friend,  whose  cynical  outbursts  were  not 
unfamiliar  to  him,  but  neither  smiled  nor 
answered. 

"  A  sensible  fellow  I  am,  to  care  for 
you,"  resumed  Selwyn,  amid  his  smoke ; 
"  tossing  up  my  cap,  and  giving  three  cheers 
for  your  genius,  and  you  can't  wait  for  the 
words  to  be  out  of  my  mouth  before  you 
want  to  be  off  enjoying  yourself  with  it.  I 
wish  I'd  kept  it  to  myself;  I  wish  I  could 
prevent  your  ever  finding  out  what  it's  for  ; 
I  wish  you  were  as  good-for-nothing  a  fool 
as  I  am,  and  then  we  might  have  some  good 
times  together.  No,  on  second  thoughts,  I 
take  it  all  back.  If  I  could  tell  you  what 
your  vocation  was  to  be,  you  should  know 
before  this  pipe  went  out.  I  wish  you  did 
know  it.  ^lie  day  you  do,  you  see  the  last 
of  Jack  Selwyn." 

"  Where  do  you  mean  to  go?  " 

"  Oh,  Heaven  preserve  me  from  a  man 
wedded  to  his  genius!  I  hope  you  don't 
propose  committing  bigamy  with  any  inno- 
cent young  woman?  Yes,  whenever  you 
discover  what  you  are  made  for,  let  me 
know.  I  know  the  kind  of  friend  a  man  of 
genius  wants,  and  I'm  not  one  of  that  kind. 
No!" 

"  If  you  mean  to  hint  that  I  could  be- 
come so  taken  up  in  any  pursuit  as  to  slight 
you  or  any  one  I  love,  either  you  don't  know 
what  genius  is,  or  I  haven't  any,"  growled 
Garth,  in  indignation.  "  I  won't  talk  about 
it  any  more.  We've  said  too  much  about  it 
already.  I  feel  little  enough  like  a  genius 
now." 

"  Well,  slit  my  tongue,  Garth,  or,  better 
still,  cut  my  throat.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
such  a  sentimental,  gushing  young  thing  as 
I  am?  But,  Garth,  I  swear  by  you,  or, 
rather,  whatever  name  I  take  in  vain,  it  will 
never  be  yours.  Good-night,  old  genius ! 
Ah,  you  may  turn  out  a  great  man,  and  I 
may  kowtow  to  you,  but  you'll  never  be 


TO 


GARTH. 


great  enough  to  do  one  thing,  kotow  or  not 
— save  me  from  going  to  the  devil !  Ha ! 
ha!  ha!  Good-by." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THIS  conversation  did  Garth  no  osten- 
sible good  ;  he  became  graver  and  more 
preoccupied  than  ever.  The  glimpse  of  hid- 
den treasure  which  Selwyn  had  given  him 
seemed  rather  to  bewilder  than  to  enrich 
him.  He  wandered  about  with  a  sprig  of 
witch-hazel,  exploring  his  mind  for  what 
might  lie  buried  in  it. 

His  searches  resulted  as  most  such 
ssarches  do.  He  discovered  nothing,  and 
began  to  more  than  suspect  that  there  'was 
nothing  to  discover.  Meantime,  his  hours 
and  days  were  slipping  into  nothingness. 
He  could  almost  wish,  like  Selwyn,  that  he 
had  been  an  acknowledged  fool,  if  so  he 
might  be  happier. 

"  I  am  an  impostor,  deceiving  even  my- 
self," he  would  sometimes  think. 

Ilowbeit,  the  deception  was  often  won- 
drous subtile.  What  was  this  power,  this 
clearness  and  facility,  that  ever  and  anon 
surged  and  lived  within  him  ?  Was  it  sin- 
gular or  common  ?  Did  everybody  see  and 
feel  what  he  sometimes  saw  and  felt  ?  At 
all  events,  he  knew  no  one  who  could  reply 
to  him  in  such  moods ;  indeed,  there  was  no 
one  to  whom  he  felt  it  possible  adequately 
to  express  himself.  But,  if  his  riches  could 
not  be  used  and  profited  by,  were  they  not 
a  misfortune  ?  A  genius  who  could  make 
his  genius  of  no  avail  was  especially  pitiable. 
Nevertheless,  Garth  could  not  wholly  resign 
himself  to  being  commonplace. 

He  saw  the  world  under  two  alternate 
and  strongly-contrasted  aspects.  Now,  it 
glowed  and  throbbed  with  color  and  rhythm. 
It  gleamed  and  floated,  too  rich  and  poetic 
to  be  solid  reality.  These  tints,  and  forms, 
and  motions,  were  beautiful,  not  in  them- 
selves, but  by  dint  of  transcendent  signifi- 
cances shining  through — significances  which 
trembled  on  the  verge  of  expression.  Could 
they  be  expressed  ?  If  so,  how  blessed  their 


interpreter!  The  universe  would  flow  and 
be  plastic  in  his  hands ;  he  could  shape  its 
sublime  generalities  into  lovely  and  wise 
particulars ;  he  could  bring  the  ends  of  tho 
earth  together,  and  cause  them  to  enhance 
each  other's  beauty.  His  abstracts  would 
suggest  the  truth  of  the  whole,  and  bring  it 
to  common  recognition ;  and  upon  each  ab- 
stract, each  particular,  would  be  stamped 
the  seal  of  his  individual  mind  and  nature, 
lending  to  the  wild  page  of  Xature  a  human 
interest  which  should  endear  it  to  men's 
hearts.  Yes,  the  great  invisible  world  of 
men  and  things  was  the  security  of  an  in- 
finite treasure  which  it  was  the  lot  of  the 
chosen  seer  to  take  and  spend  for  the  weal 
of  humankind. 

More  often,  however,  the  world  wore  a 
less  promising  appearance.  It  was  solid  and 
superficial :  nothing  short  of  a  pickaxe  or 
chisel  could  discover  an  interior.  It  was 
wonderfully  painted,  modeled,  and  arranged; 
but  with  a  little  more  skill  and  knowledge, 
man  might  produce  something  nearly  as 
good.  It  had  no  meaning,  except  utility  or 
inconvenience.  Its  closest  relation  to  man 
was  a  chemical  one.  It  was  a  monument 
of  divine  power ;  but  the  human  race  wii^ 
only  accidentally  associated  with  it,  and 
might  just  as  well  have  been  anywhere  else. 
Creation  was  arbitrary,  and  it  was  an  idle 
vision,  that  of  a  comprehensive  and  logical 
necessity  pervading  all. 

"  It  is  better  to  be  an  amateur  than  in 
earnest,"  Selwyn  would  assert.  "  Whoever 
tries  to  take  such  a  stupendous  joke  as  this 
world  is  seriously,  gets  crucified  for  his 
pains.  Besides,  it  isn't  dignified." 

"  At  all  events,"  growled  Garth,  after  a 
silence,  "  I  shall  worship  the  God  who  suf- 
fers from  every  doubt  and  evil  impulse  that 
I  feel,  and  fights  against  them  with  me,  and 
whom  I  crucify  every  time  I  reject  his  help. 
Not  such  a  God  as  you  talk  about — who 
creates  arbitrarily,  and  enjoys  formal  super- 
stitious flattery,  and  can  sit  idle  while  I  am 
sinning  and  struggling  and  dying  down 
here." 

Selwyn  stared  in  surprise. 

"I  have  my  deaf  and  blind  times,"  the 
other  went  on,  still  eying  his  companion : 
"  I'm  that  way  to-day,  and  the  world  seems 


DISPUTE. 


Tl 


dead  and  dumb.  But  when  I  feel  alive  and 
clear,  so  seems  the  world  too.  It  follows 
my  good  or  bad  humor.  It  is  bound  up 
with  me,  somehow ;  and  if  there  is  a  God, 
he  is  bound  up  with  me ;  at  any  rate,  if  he 
is  not  bound  up  in  me,  there  is  no  Christ, 
•who  is  the  only  God  worth  talking  about." 

"  Well,  Master  Urmson,  I  have  sometimes 
suspected  my  own  orthodoxy  ;  but  what  to 
call  you —  Do  you  know  you  have  a  way  of 
staring  me  straight  in  the  face  ?  It's  devilish 
disagreeable,  and  I  wish  you'd  stop  it." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  your  face  :  it's  a 
handsome  one,  but  too  pale.  Your  hair 
curves  about  prettily,  and  has  the  right 
shade  of  brown,  but  it's  soft  as  a  woman's. 
However,  it  matches  well  enough  with  that 
straight,  delicate  nose  of  yours,  and  with — " 

"  Your  genius  is  not  for  badinage,  de- 
cidedly ;  you  remind  me  of  a  dancing  bear 
I  used  to  know  in  Tyrol.  By-the-way,  have 
you  found  out  yet  what  it  is  for  ?  " 

"Dancing,  I  suppose.  Oh,  my  genius! 
Selwyn,  if  the  universe  is  a  joke,  and  God 
an  experimenter,  what  is  genius  ?  " 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  I  don't  think  you  can 
be  responsible  for  your  utterances  to-day. 
If  you  were  not  Garth,  I  should  fancy  you'd 
had  too  much  gin !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are  laughing 
at,"  said  Garth,  rather  grimly.  "  Genius  is 
getting  at  God's  meaning ;  but  if  he  means 
what  you  say,  the  fewer  geniuses  there  are 
the  better.  Are  you  a  humbug,  after  all  ? 
What  you  say  doesn't  hold  together.  If 
you  are  only  playing  at  skepticism,  it's  poor 
play,  I  think." 

"  Upon  my  word  you  are  getting  rather 
personal,"  exclaimed  Selwyn,  somewhat 
hotly. 

"  Oh,  forget  your  person  for  a  few 
minutes.  Well,  I  beg  your  pardon.  Do 
you  remember  hinting  some  time  ago  that 
when  I  found  my  vocation  I  might  slight  my 
friends  ?  The  danger  seems  more  likely  to 
come  from  my  not  finding  it.  I  grow  more 
disagreeable  to  myself  and  to  you  every  day. 
Most  of  the  tutors  hate  the  sight  of  me.  I've 
a  mind  to  go  before  the  mast.  I  can  be  a 
sailor,  at  all  events." 

"  I  am  an  effeminate  brute,  sure  enough, 
to  be  angry  with  you,  you  dear  old  curmud- 


geon. If  you  go  before  the  mast,  I'll  go 
with  you :  I've  seen  a  little  of  that  life, 
already,  you  know.  But  that's  nonsense. 
Why  don't  you  write  Milton,  or  paint 
Michael  Angelo,  or  preach  St.  Paul  ?  That's 
the  sort  of  thing  you  are  up  to,  if  you  only 
knew  it." 

"  Painter !  "  cried  Garth,  raising  himself 
from  his  chair,  and  reddening. 

"  What  are  you  in  a  rage  about  ?  Yes, 
now  I  think  of  it,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
painting  was  your  line.  You'd  be  a  sort  of 
Beethoven  of  the  easel." 

Garth  walked  several  times  up  and  down 
the  small  dingy  room,  scowling  at  the  car- 
pet, and  doubling  and  undoubling  his  fists. 
At  length  he  stopped  in  front  of  Selwyn, 
and  spoke  with  unusually  bitter  energy. 

"  If  you  knew  what  a  time  I've  had  for 
years  past !  When  I  waa  a  child,  with  no 
thought  of  right  and  wrong,  I  was  ashamed 
of  it ;  afterward  I  began  to  see  it  for  what 
it  was,  but  the  temptation  was  so  strong 
that  half  the  time  I  gave  in  to  it.  I  used 
to  sneak  off  to  that  room  in  the  garret.  I 
qan't  understand  it !  In  what  seem  my  best 
moments  I  feel  the  temptation  strongest, 
and  I'm  never  so  happy  as  while  I  am  yield- 
ing. Since  I've  been  here,  and  have  had  no 
chance,  I've  been  wretched." 

"  What  has  this  to  do  with  being  a 
painter  ? " 

"  I  believe  Satan  was  the  first  painter. 
The  Lord  had  given  him  power  and  insight 
— the  noblest  weapons — and  he  turned  them 
against  him,  to  mock  him  and  parody  his 
works.  Those  great  painters,  honored  as 
they  are,  were  either  miserably  weak  or 
wicked.  They  used  their  genius  to  degrade 
this  God-created  world  to  their  own  level. 
Men  praise  them  because  such  degradation 
flatters  their  vanity.  I  have  the  best  right 
to  call  them  contemptible.  The  better  they 
paint,  the  worse  they  are.  I  believe  they 
are  less  able  or  less  daring  now  ;  but  those 
old  painters  used  to — Sehvyn,  they  used  to 
paint  God  himself  and  angels.  It  was  blas- 
phemy ! " 

"And  beautiful  blasphemy  some  of  it 
was.  I  saw  a  big  blasphemy  in  Rome,  called 
the  '  Transfiguration,'  done  by  a  famous 
devil  of  the  name  of  Eaphael.  He  and 


GARTH. 


others  have  painted  crowds  of  Virgins  and 
saints,  most  of  which  are  prayed  to  in 
churches.  Oh,  the  works  of  the  devil  are 
all  the  rage  in  Europe,  I  assure  you.  And 
the  best  of  it  is  they  are  called  divinely  in- 
spired. But  see  here,  Garth,  I  shall  pull  as 
long  a  face  as  your  own  for  a  few  moments, 
and  ask  you  some  serious  questions.  You 
are  the  most  perverse  idiot  for  a  genius  that 
I  ever  heard  of.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
you've  ever  painted  anything  ? " 

"  I  did  what  I  could,"  replied  the  other, 
gloomily,  resuming  his  seat.  "  I  had  no 
knowledge  nor  materials  to  speak  of;  only 
the  desire." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  famous  picture  ? " 

Garth  shook  his  head.  "  Nor  ever  mean 
to.  It's  enough  to  have  heard  of  them — and 
I've  seen  copies  of  some  in  books." 

"  What  a  delicate  moralist  you  are,  to  be 
sure !  What  does  your  father  say  on  the 
subject?" 

"  I  never  spoke  to  him  about  it ;  never 
to  any  one  except — " 

"  That  was  selfish  of  you ;  for  you  only 
being  right,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world 
wrong,  you  ought  to  make  converts  and 
preach  a  crusade.  Tell  me  one  thing,  is  it 
as  wicked  to  draw  Pom  Asinorum  on  the 
blackboard  as  to  paint  the  'Transfigura- 
tion?'" 

"  If  I  could  jest  about  this,  I  should  be 
yet  more  contemptible  than  I  am.  I've  been 
thinking  it  over  lately,  and  may  as  well  face 
the  truth  now  as  later:  my  genius,  if  I  have 
genius — at  any  rate,  the  strongest  bent  of 
my  faculties  and  impulses — is  to  be  a  painter. 
I'm  that  or  nothing ;  an  intellectual  pauper, 
or  rich  on  devil's  wages.  Now  you  know 
why  I'm  ill-humored.  I  don't  see  why  I 
was  created  fit  only  for  an  ill  purpose.  It 
makes  me  doubt.  I'd  better  go  to  sea,  as 
my  forefathers  did." 

Here  followed  a  pause  of  some  length, 
both  young  men  looking  a  good  deal  out  of 
sorts.  At  last  Selwyn  broke  out,  smiting 
his  hands  against  the  arms  of  his  chair : 

"This  is  the  most  absurd  tragedy  I  ever 
heard  of.  Shall  I  laugh  or  cry  ?  What  is 
the  use  of  my  talking?  No  one  can  confute 
you  better  than  yourself.  Your  skepticism 
is  so  monstrous  and  irrational,  it  will  end  in 


making  me  a  credulous  bigot.  Garth,  tell 
me  one  thing,  did  you  ever  fall  in  love  ?  " 

"  Do  you—    Yes,  I—" 

"  Oh,  don't  blush ;  you're  no  worse  than 
the  rest  of  us.  But  see  here,  did  you  go 
smash  at  the  first  look,  or  did  you  hold  back 
at  first,  and  only  give  in  afterward  ?  " 

"I  believe  that  was — but — '' 

"  Ha !  and  when  you'd  given  in,  didn't 
you  love  her  most  for  the  very  things  you'd 
found  most  fault  with  at  first  ?  Didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Perhaps.  You  seem  to  know  all  about 
it— but— " 

"There!  Yes,  I  do  know  my  alphabet, 
and  part  of  yours  into  the  bargain ;  and 
that's  more  knowledge  than  you  can  lay 
claim  to,  with  all  your  genius.  Don't  you 
see  how  it  is  ?  Painting  is  your  mistress, 
and  you're  madly  in  love  with  her — so  much 
so  that  the  mere  thought  of  her  makes  you 
an  irrational  fool.  You  are  bound  to  her, 
soul  and  body,  so  of  course  you  can't  hear 
argument  or  talk  sense  about  her.  She  at- 
tracts you  so  that  you  mistake  your  «'«  in- 
ertias, for  repulsion,  and  babble  what  you 
fancy  is  abuse,  but  what  wise  men  know  to 
be  abject  love-talk.  Blasphemy,  forsooth! 
Painting  is  your  mistress,  and  when  you  are 
come  to  years  of  discretion,  if  you  don't 
marry  her,  and  eat  your  blackguard  words 
in  dust  and  ashes — if  you  don't —  Damn, 
there  goes  the  bell !  and  my  rhetoric  all  un- 
learned." 

"You  have  your  rhetoric  by  heart," 
muttered  Garth,  as  his  friend  slammed  the 
door  and  was  gone ;  and  he  sat  scowling  at 
the  carpet  and  scorning  to  be  cajoled  by 
words.  Nevertheless,  he  presently  dis- 
covered some  abatement  in  his  ill-humor.  It 
was  a  satisfaction  to  have  recognized  the 
truth  about  himself,  and  to  have  spoken  it 
out,  once  for  all.  Selwyn  had  ridiculed 
him,  which  was  foolish  in  Selwyn ;  but  it 
showed,  at  least,  that  the  matter  could  be 
honestly  regarded  from  two  sides.  He  would 
gladly  believe  that  those  arch-sinners,  Ra- 
phael, Titian,  and  the  rest,  were  honest  too. 
But  that  was  not  possible — hardly  possible. 
Whoever  had  felt  the  temptation  rage  with- 
in him  must  have  had  insight  to  divine  its 
impiety.  Pictures  could  not  be  painted  by 
fools,  nor  in  fits  of  abstraction. 


ARGUMENT. 


73 


No,  Selwyn  was  a  better  rhetorician  than  ' 
logician.  What  arguments  had  he  used  ? 
Not  one!  only  adduced  illustrations,  and 
forced  ones  at  that.  Indeed,  what  argu- 
ments on  his  side  of  the  question  were 
there?  But  why  talk  of  argument?  Argu- 
ment about  a  matter  such  as  this  was  out  of 
place,  undignified.  The  truth  must  be  felt 
intuitively,  ancl  there  an  end.  The  only 
puzzle  was,  that  the  truth  was  not  as  mani- 
fest to  the  rest  of  the  world  as  to  Garth ; 
whereas,  as  Selwyn  had  said,  Garth  stood 
alone.  Could  there  be  anything  in  the  sug- 
gestion that  one's  very  partiality  to  a  thing 
might  blind  him  to  its  merits?  It  had 
been  so  in  the  case  of  Madge,  to  be  sure ; 
but  this  was  a  moral,  not  a  personal,  ques- 
tion. 

It  hero  struck  Garth  as  an  odd  coinci- 
dence that  Madge  (to  whom  only  beside  Sel- 
wyn he  had  mentioned  painting)  should  have 
agreed  with  Selwyn  in  approving  it.  What 
if  others — what  if  his  father — were  to  do 
the  same  ?  Was  any  individual  safe  in  set- 
ting his  intuitive  sentiment  above  the  verdict 
of  history  and  of  his  contemporaries?  Might 
not  one  be  too  closely  concerned  in  such 
verdict  to  feel  intuitively  at  all,  especially  if 
he  were  a  new-made  collegian  with  little 
knowledge  and  less  experience  ? 

But  now  he  drew  himself  up  and  sternly 
questioned  his  integrity.  If  incompetent  to 
decide  against  his  desires,  much  less  dare  he 
favor  them.  No  majority  of  voices  could 
make  wrong  right;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  his  very  unfamiliarity  with  current 
opinion  might  enhance  the  worth  of  his 
judgment.  Moreover,  Garth  had  a  potent 
belief  in  his  own  sanity.  On  a  matter  of 
such  large  moment  as  this,  juggling  with 
syllogisms  was  out  of  place.  A  spontaneous 
conviction  could  be  attacked  only  by  another 
as  spontaneous.  It  seemed  most  honorable 
not  to  think  about  the  subject  more  than  he 
could  help.  If  his  present  position  was  just, 
time  would  confirm  it;  if  not,  time  would 
bring  the  deeper  insight  to  undermine  it. 
Though  this  might  seem  an  unpromising 
conclusion,  it  left  Garth  less  heavy-hearted 
than  of  late,  and  disposed  to  question  wheth- 
er all  of  life  lay  between  the  horns  of  a  di- 
lemma. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

ARGUMENT. 

MEANWHILE,  in  furtherance  of  his  pur- 
pose to  banish  the  matter  from  his  thoughts, 
he  strove  doggedly  to  fill  himself  with  study. 
His  freshman  year  was  nearly  done;  but 
he  had  already  resolved  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer vacation  at  the  college.  Perhaps,  in 
thinking  of  home,  the  garret-chamber  stood 
out  too  prominently,  and  he  shunned  putting 
his  resolution  to  the  test  too  soon.  More- 
over, home-ties  having  been  cut,  he  may 
have  wished  the  wound  thoroughly  to  heal 
before  returning.  He  had  proved  himself 
a;  better  correspondent  than  might  have  been 
expected,  addressing  most  of  his  letters  to 
his  mother,  who,  for  her  part,  replied  with 
sweet  motherly  phrases  and  inquiries  and 
hopes  and  fears,  one  letter  being  nearly  a 
repetition  of  the  rest,  and  the  dearer  to 
Garth  on  that  account.  His  father's  injunc- 
tion to  think  often  of  his  mother  might  have 
been  spared.  He  felt  nearer  to  her  than 
before  their  separation,  and  loved  her  more 
intelligently  since  learning  something  of  the 
unloveliness  of  the  outer  world. 

His  correspondence  with  Madge  was  of  a 
more  titful  and  less  satisfactory  sort.  In 
the  first  place,  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to 
write  to  her.  A  mere  account  of  his  haps 
and  mishaps  —  though,  no  doubt,  Madge 
would  have  found  it  acceptable  enough — 
seemed  to  Garth  too  slight  a  theme,  while 
he  found  huge  difficulty  in  composing  an 
ideal  love-letter ;  for  to  soar  to  the  ideal 
was  to  lose  sight  of  Madge,  and  to  keep  her 
steadily  in  view  was  to  miss  the  ideal.  So, 
albeit  he  spent  much  more  time  and  pains 
over  his  letters  to  her  than  on  those  to  his 
mother,  he  did  not  like  them  nearly  so  well 
when  they  were  done. 

Madge,  for  her  part,  was  punctual  in  her 
answers ;  but  these  did  little  to  relieve  Garth 
of  his  embarrassment.  His  mother's  epis- 
tles, unstudied  and  simple  though  they  were, 
seemed  almost  to  hold  her  living  image  in 
every  sentence  ;  but  Madge's  rather  obscured 
than  brought  her  before  him  ;  he  could  not 
reconcile  her  written  with  her  visible  self. 
He  thought  she  did  herself  injustice,  was  ig- 


GARTH. 


norant  of  her  -worth,  and  translated  herself 
from  a  divinity  into  something  approaching 
the  commonplace.  In  herself  he  knew  her 
to  be  only  too  captivating,  but  he  fancied  he 
could  never  have  fallen  in  love  with  her 
through  the  post. 

Meanwhile  the  fault  was  not  in  Madge's 
letters,  but  in  her  lover's  unreasonable 
standard.  There  was  no  contradiction  be- 
tween what  she  wrote  and  herself ;  but 
Garth  had  never  sufficiently  separated  in 
his  mind  her  appearance  from  her  char- 
acter. It  is  the  misfortune  of  very  beau- 
tiful persons  that  they  are  open  to  in- 
vidious comparisons  between  their  outside 
and  their  inside.  Nor  did  he  sufficiently 
consider  the  necessary  effect  of  her  con- 
fined position  upon  her  alert  and  ambitious 
spirit.  Village  born  and  bred,  but  with  a 
disposition  whose  restlessness  was  calculated 
for  a  much  wider  sphere,  she  had  dreamed 
from  childhood  of  the  pride  and  splendor  of 
the  outer  world.  And  now  that  Garth  had 
made  his  first  step  into  this  unknown  and 
fascinating  region,  she  constituted  him  her 
proxy,  and  expected  him  not  only  to  take 
an  interest  in  all  that  would  have  interested 
her,  but  to  send  her  vivid  and  enthusiastic 
accounts  thereof.  She  imagined  him  con- 
sorting with  the  dignitaries  of  the  earth ; 
engaging  in  an  endless  series  of  parties,  re- 
ceptions, picnics,  and  other  dissipations :  the 
companion  of  brilliant,  wise,  and  witty  men, 
and  (which  often  prompted  her  to  outbursts 
of  fantastic  and  far-fetched  jealousy)  of 
lovely  und  aristocratic  women.  Endless  was 
her  curiosity  on  all  social  subjects  ;  and  de- 
spite continual  betrayals  of  ignorance  on 
Garth's  part,  both  implicit  and  explicit,  she 
could  never  bring  herself  to  believe  that  he 
was  really  living  the  secluded  and  monoto- 
nous life  which  lie  pretended.  Perhaps  it 
was  as  well  for  his  credit  that  she  was  thus 
incredulous ;  she  might  have  found  it  hard 
to  respect  a  man  who  cared  nothing  for 
what  she  considered  the  cream  of  existence. 
But  she  did  not  believe  him ;  she  thought 
he  was  concealing  his  triumphs  from  her; 
and  while  this  supposed  reticence  tormented 
and  piqued  her  to  the  last  degree,  she  nev- 
ertheless, by  a  sort  of  feminine  perversity, 
admired  him  more  for  keeping  his  own  coun- 


sel than  she  would  have  thanked  him  for 
the  most  circumstantial  avowal  of  his  pro- 
ceedings. 

She  was  very  constant  to  him  ;  perhaps 
more  so  than  had  he  never  worn  the  halo 
of  absence.  It  may  be  doubted,  likewise, 
whether  her  faith  would  have  staid  so  well 
if  she,  and  not  Garth,  had  been  the  traveler, 
since  even  he,  despite  the  stout  sinew  of  his 
rugged  principle,  had  felt  the  strain  of  new 
places  and  views.  In  fact,  by  the  close  of 
his  first  year  he  was  not  sorry  to  have  been 
away  from  her.  Not  that  he  had  met,  or 
expected  to  meet,  or  wished  to  meet,  other 
women  in  any  respect  preferable  to  her ; 
indeed,  so  far  as  mere  loveliness  and  winning 
manners  were  concerned,  he  might  have 
journeyed  much  farther  than  Bowdoin  Col- 
lege without  finding  any  such.  But  he  had 
never  contemplated  Madge  from  his  present 
point  of  view  ;  and  the  new  aspect  creating 
in  him  a  sort  of  strangeness,  not  estrange- 
ment, he  wanted  to  get  over  this  and  be- 
come familiarized  with  his  mistress  on  fresh 
ground  before  returning  to  take  up  the  old 
relations. 

Moreover,  his  state  of  unsettlement  re- 
garding what  use  he  was  to  make  of  himself 
might  have  disinclined  him  to  the  more  ac- 
tive phases  of  love-making.  Could  he  have 
discussed  his  prospects  with  Madge,  then, 
indeed,  a  strong  link  would  straightway  have 
been  forged  in  their  chain  of  sympathy. 
But  from  this  he  was  debarred,  partly  by  a 
feeling  that  the  selfish  putting  forward  of 
such  grave  topics  would  never  gain  her  in- 
terest, and  partly  because  on  the  matter 
which  lay  nearest  his  heart  she  had  already 
expressed  an.  opinion — one  which  he  did  not 
wish  to  combat,  and  with  which  he  feared  to 
agree.  Such  was  the  state  of  his  affairs  on 
this  side. 

His  communion  with  his  father  was  of 
another  color.  Mr.  Urmson's  letters  were 
not  long,  yet  Garth  thought  there  was  a 
great  deal  in  them.  They  were  not  frequent, 
but  they  never  seemed  to  come  a  moment 
too  soon  or  late.  They  were  not  given  to 
asking  questions,  but  appeared  written  from 
a  vantage  -  ground  of  tranquil  knowledge. 
There  was,  however,  no  assumption  of  su- 
periority, but  Garth  found  himself  addressed 


ARGUMENT. 


75 


as  an  equal  in  subtile  essays,  couched  in  a 
tone  of  cool  and  quiet  humor,  and  treating 
of  certain  aspects  of  life  and  conduct  such  as 
happened  to  be  just  then  engaging  the  young 
tuan'a  attention.  At  first  he  took  this  op- 
portuneness for  a  singular  coincidence ;  but 
§  when  the  coincidence  had  recurred  more  or 
less  remarkably  some  half-dozen  times,  he 
began  to  suspect  his  father  of  being  very 
wise,  and  of  having  appalling  insight  not 
only  into  the  general  ways  of  life,  but  par- 
ticularly into  his  son's  needs  and  nature. 

Both  in  tone  and  substance  these  letters 
were  a  wholesome  complement  to  the  drift 
of  Selvvyn's  conversation  ;  they  gleamed 
sometimes  with  irony,  but  were  never  cyni- 
cal or  loose.  Neither  had  they  anything  of 
Selvvyn's  fitful  vehemence  and  passion,  but 
kept  the  attitude  of  even-tempered,  observ- 
ant criticism — criticism  which  Garth  could 
hardly  have  appreciated  at  its  full  worth 
then,  though  it  often  armed  his  hand  with 
the  very  weapon  the  crisis  asked ;  but  which 
inclined  him  to  believe  that  there  might  be 
one  man  who  understood  him  even  better 
than  he  understood  himself.  Nevertheless, 
Mr.  Urmson  never  referred  to  Garth's  prob- 
able occupation  on  leaving  college;  and,  since 
Garth  himself  shunned  introducing  it,  there 
seemed  no  likelihood  of  this  most  important 
topic's  being  discussed.  Mr.  Urmson,  in- 
deed, was  always  shy  of  advancing  his  own 
opinion  where  another  was  as  apt  to  be  the 
true  one.  However,  Garth  did  not  mean  to 
settle  down  in  the  world  without  having  had 
it  out  with  his  father  about  painting.  lie 
held  this  purpose  in  reserve,  and,  without 
fixing  the  time  or  place  of  its  execution,  he 
looked  forward  to  it  as  the  finishing  incident 
of  this  preparatory  phase  of  his  existence. 

It  was  noticeable  that  his  grandfather, 
who  occasionally  sent  him  weighty  epistles, 
bearing  all  the  outward  and  much  of  the  in- 
ward aspect  of  sermons,  generally  enlarged 
upon  the  very  subject  which  Mr.  Urmson 
forbore  to  touch.  The  venerable  gentleman 
was  as  full  of  sapient  suggestions  as  Polonius, 
and  sketched  out,  during  this  first  year,  as 
many  as  four  or  five  different  careers  for  his 
grandson,  not  one  of  which  was  lacking  either 
in  piety,  propriety,  or  respectability,  and 
which  wore  unavailable  mainly  because  of 


the  difficulty  of  making  a  selection  from 
them.  Each  of  these  ponderous  manuscripts 
was  embellished  with  a  stalwart  blessing, 
and  illuminated  with  one  or  two  enormous 
witticisms,  which  recalled  to  the  mind's  ear 
the  reverberating  haw-haw-ho's  of  their 
white-headed  deviser.  And,  altogether,  the 
letters  did  Garth  as  much  good  as  his  grand- 
father had  meant  they  should,  only  in  a  little 
different  way. 

The  summer  vacation,  though  spent  away 
from  home,  was  neither  so  dull  nor  so  fruit- 
less as  might  have  been  expected.  One  of 
the  college  professors  who  had  taken  an  in- 
terest in  Garth,  partly  on  account  of  having 
met  his  father  when  at  Bowdoin  thirty  and 
odd  years  before,  now-  placed  his  library — a 
very  comprehensive  one — at  the  young  man's 
disposal.  At  almost  any  other  period  of  his 
life  Garth  would  have  profited  little  by  such 
a  privilege ;  but  it  happened  to  come  at  a 
time  when  everything  seemed  to  be  stagnant, 
and  he  caught  at  it  with  the  zest  of  a  fam- 
ished outcast  for  a  warm  meal.  There  is  no 
telling  from  what  mischief  this  library  may 
have  saved  him,  but  the  good  it  did  him 
was  never  questionable.  The  professor,  be- 
sides being  learned,  Avas  a  man  of  the  world, 
and  his  books  embodied  no  one-sided  or  sec- 
tarian views.  He  had  taken  the  measure  of 
Garth's  literary  needs,  and,  without  prescrib- 
ing a  course,  he  yet  so  directed  and  minis- 
tered to  his  reading  as  to  save  him  from 
wasting  his  time.  And  Garth  got  up  early, 
and  read  day  after  day  far  into  the  short 
summer  nights.  The  professor — who  was  a 
bald-headed  old  bachelor,  with  eye-glasses, 
a  stiff,  gray  beard,  and  an  eagle's  beak — sit- 
ting in  his  chair  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
breezy  library,  would  often  watch,  for  an 
hour  at  a  time,  his  shaggy-browed  young 
visitor's  strenuous  progress  through  a  book. 
"  He's  no  taster  !  "  the  learned  man  would 
mutter  to  himself,  "chews  and  digests  them 
all — can  see  him  do  it !  "  Anon  would  he 
resume  his  own  reading,  with  the  low,  stern 
chuckle  which  served  him  for  a  laugh.  Again 
looking  up,  at  a  more  than  usually  labored 
sigh  from  the  absorbed  youth  : 

"Look  out,  there,  youngster;  you'll  get 
a  stomach-ache  if  you  swallow  too  much  at 
a  time." 


76 


GARTH. 


Sometimes  Garth  would  be  too  far  rapt 
away  to  answer  or  hear  ;  otherwise  he  would 
look  up  at  first  with  a  vacant  stare,  which 
gradually  concentrated  into  intelligence,  and 
ended  in  a  smile. 

"  Mop  your  forehead,  and  pull  off  your 
coat ;  we'll  try  a  drop  of  claret  and  a  bis- 
cuit,"  the  professor  would  continue,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word ;  and  over  their  fru- 
gal lunch  the  two  would  chat  together  with 
mutual  good-will  and  freedom. 

"  Professor  Grindle,  do  you  like  being  a 
professor? " 

"Some  parts  of  it,  Mr.  Urmson — some 
parts  of  it.  I'm  free  to  say  that  I'd  rather 
see  you  drink  my  claret  than  hear  you  say 
your  lesson." 

"  Is  reading  books  anything  like  travel- 
ing?" 

"  A  very  uncomfortable  kind  of  travel- 
ing, I  can  assure  you,  as  the  world  is  now. 
Not  but  the  world  is  better  written  than 
most  books,  too.  And  yet  no  two  human 
beings  ever  read  it  just  alike.  "We  each  live 
in  a  world  by  ourselves." 

"  Then  whoever  truly  tells  what  he  sees, 
tells  news  to  all  the  rest  ?  " 

"  Eight !  and  that's  why  good  pictures 
are  precious.  Nature,  digested  by  a  great 
painter,  emerges  transfigured  ;  his  rendering 
endows  us,  so  far,  with  his  own  nobler  in- 
sight, and  we  rise  so  much  nearer  to  a  vision 
of  the  Creator,  Mr.  Urmson." 

"  What  do  you  call  Nature?  " 

"  Ay,  that  has  puzzled  wiser  heads  than 
ours,  young  gentleman.  'Tis  a  background, 
a  means,  a  negative,  a  compromise,  between 
finite  and  infinite,  a  marriage  between  what 
makes  you  and  me  what  we  are  and  what 
makes  God  what  he  is.  It's  each  man's 
looking-glass,  Mr.  Urmson ;  and,  if  a  man's 
a  fool,  it's  only  a  fool's  face  he'll  see  in 
it.  In  itself  it's  just  nothing  at  all ;  and 
thence  comes  it — though  how  'twould  be 
long  to  explain — that  the  difference  between 
angel  and  devil  is  mainly  one  of  opinion. 
Pass  the  bottle,  sir,  and  catch  your  breath." 

"  Is  that  in  any  of  your  books,  Professor 
Grindle?" 

"Ay;  but  in  none  that  you've  seen.  Do 
you  like  the  sound  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  want  the  books." 


"Perhaps,  perhaps,  Mr.  Urmson;  though 
it's  not  every  man  one  throws  pearls  to — you 
understand  me !  I'll  acquaint  you  with  one 
fact,  however:  'twas  these  books  brought 
your  father  and  myself  acquainted.  He  in- 
troduced me  to  them  ;  and  for  that  service 
I  owe  him  much,  sir.  Much  indeed.  Fill  • 
your  glass.  Well,  well— I'll  see,  I'll  see. 
I'll  be  writing  to  your  father  before  long, 
young  gentleman,  and  maybe  will  mention 
the  matter  to  him,  just  to  see  what  he 
says." 

"  Who  wrote  these  books  ?  " 

"  A  good  man,  Mr.  Urmson,  and  a  wise 
and  a  simple.  But  'twas  not  his  own  credit 
he  looked  to,  and  his  name  is  less  known 
to-day  than  will  be  the  case  a  thousand 
years  from  now.  That's  no  matter.  Here's 
to  your  better  acquaintance  with  him  at 
some  future  day ;  and,  meanwhile,  go  ahead 
with  your  Johnson." 

Garth  resumed  the  world-renowned  bi- 
ography accordingly ;  but  the  most  of  that 
afternoon  slipped  away  in  reverie,  and  at 
night,  in  a  pleasant  dream,  he  seemed  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  unknown  rev- 
erend writer  who  had  cared  less  for  himself 
than  for  his  work. 

The  vacation  passed,  and  sophomore 
year  began,  and  Garth  fancied  himself  a 
much  deeper  and  broader  being,  metaphysi- 
cally speaking,  than  he  was  twelve  months 
ago,  and  he  eyed  his  classmates  curiously  to 
see  whether  they  had  grown  so  fast  as  he. 
At  his  time  of  life,  this  perception  of  in- 
crease is  not  unpleasant ;  the  upward  slope 
of  age  seems  endless,  and  the  expanding 
prospect  exhilarates,  while  the  ignorant 
plain  of  childhood  lies  so  short  a  distance 
behind  us  that  we  can  almost  believe  our- 
selves wise  in  the  midst  of  innocence.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  Garth  had  made  some  prog- 
ress, and,  thanks  partly  to  Professor  Grin- 
die,  with  his  books  and  claret,  not  altogether 
in  a  wrong  direction. 

He  looked  with  eagerness  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  Selwyn,  as  if  some  of  his  vaca- 
tion studies  had  given  him  new  subjects 
to  talk  about,  or  at  least  furnished  new 
means  to  the  old  discussions.  But  Selwyn 
came  not ;  and,  when  a  week  had  passed, 
Garth  received  a  note  from  his  friend's 


GAIN  AND  LOSS. 


mother  saying  that  he  was  seriously  ill  with 
a  fever.  This  fever  and  its  consequences  pre- 
vented his  return  to  college  during  the  first 
half  of  the  year,  and,  before  the  friends  met, 
Garth  had  seen  Urmhurst  again,  and  expe- 
rienced deeper  vicissitudes  than  even  Pro- 
fessor Grindle's  library  could  offer. 

Meanwhile,  whether  reacting  from  the 
prolonged  solitude  of  the  vacation,  or  in 
pursuance  of  some  new  ideas  concerning  the 
propriety  of  human  brotherhood,  he  showed 
himself  much  more  companionable  and  pub- 
lic-spirited than  heretofore.  He  was  no 
longer  either  BO  heedlessly  impulsive  or  so 
unreasonably  fastidious  as  when  stumbling 
amid  the  crudities  of  his  freshman  year ; 
and,  in  resuming  his  former  influential  po- 
sition among  his  classmates,  he  took  his 
stand  upon  a  more  secure  basis.  Sopho- 
more year  is,  in  all  respects,  the  busiest  of 
the  college  course.  More  new  things  are 
begun  in  it,  more  old  things  ended,  more 
novel  sensations  felt,  than  either  before  or 
afterward.  Garth  was  again  able  to  give 
the  key-note  of  behavior  to  his  class,  and 
again  he  struck  a  manly  pitch.  The  fresh- 
men were  kept  sufficiently  in  awe,  yet  were 
generally  permitted  the  freedom  of  their 
bodies  and  consciences ;  the  societies  be- 
stirred themselves  with  a  throb  of  more  vig- 
orous blood  in  their  veins ;  the  class  con- 
solidated and  organized,  and  began  to  ac- 
quire a  recognizable  individuality ;  and, 
though  it  boasted  no  eminent  scholars,  yet 
the  average  of  scholarship  was  fairly  high. 
And  Garth  Urmson  was  the  central  figure 
in  this  respectable  assemblage — a  position 
which  no  amount  of  amiability  and  good  in- 
tentions would  have  got  him  if  unaccom- 
panied by  a  certain  impressive  sturdiness  of 
mind  and  body,  which  fails  not  to  command 
respect  and  following,  be  the  other  qualities 
what  they  may.  In  Garth,  however,  was 
superadded  a  charm  of  manner  not  easily 
defined,  and  only  occasionally  exercised,  but 
which,  when  present,  was  almost  irresistibly 
winning.  The  fact  that  it  seemed  to  be  ex- 
ercised unconsciously  enhanced  its  effect; 
and,  under  more  stirring  conditions,  it  might 
have  kindled  the  sort  of  enthusiasm  which 
it  is  the  prerogative  of  the  Nelsons  and  Na- 
poleons of  the  world  to  inspire,  and  which, 


if  report  be  true,  had  been  lavished  upon 
more  than  one  of  Garth's  own  ancestors. 

As  it  was,  by  the  close  of  the  winter 
term  he  stood  highest  in  repute  among  his 
classmates,  if  not  in  the  studies.  Popular- 
ity is  never  a  very  solid  affair ;  but  perhaps 
a  college  hero  holds  his  position  by  purer 
title-deeds  than  are  often  attainable  in  later' 
life.  Ilis  heroship  may  be  brief,  but  it  was 
had  in  virtue  of  some  honest  and  manly 
quality,  not  by  dint  of  interest  or  intimida- 
tion. He  is  a  genuine  fact  so  long  as  he  ex- 
ists at  all ;  though  it  by  no  means  follows 
that  his  genuineness  will  avert  his  over- 
throw, or  prevent  his  supporters  from  get- 
ting tired  of  him  and  idolizing  some  one  else. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

GAIX   AND   LOSS. 

IT  had  been  Garth's  intention  to  spend 
the  winter  holidays  in  college,  both  because 
there  were  very  few  of  them,  and  because  the 
advent  of  a  tremendous  snow-storm  had  so 
blocked  up  the  roads  that  a  large  part  of  his 
vacation  would  necessarily  be  spent  in  mere 
going  and  returning.  But  at  the  last  moment 
he  changed  his  mind.  Perhaps  the  deciding 
influence  was  the  tone  of  a  letter  from  his 
mother,  which  came  to  hand  a  day  or  two 
before  the  term  ended.  It  was  written  in  a 
mood  of  yearning  tenderness,  and  its  ostensi- 
ble cheerf  ulness  could  not  hide  from  Garth's 
apprehension  an  undertone  of  pathetic  com- 
plaint at  the  prolonged  absence  of  the  son 
who  never  before  had  been  removed  beyond 
an  hour's  recall.  In  rereading  it  he  was 
suddenly  overcome  by  an  intolerable  long- 
ing to  see  her  again ;  the  memory  of  her 
dear  face  came  vividly  before  him,  and  he 
determined  to  be  with  her  straightway, 
were  it  but  for  a  day.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  never  loved  her,  never  demanded 
her,  so  ardently  as  now.  She  was  a  woman 
of  nature  so  mild  and  unassuming  that  only 
an  intimate  acquaintance  could  discover  her 
profound  worth,  her  very  guilelessness  and 
purity  creating  about  her  an  atmosphere  of 
feminine  reserve  which  was  impenetrable  to 
whomsoever  possessed  not  the  gentle  talis- 


78 


GARTH. 


man  to  disperse  it.  In  her  letter  to  Garth 
she  had  not  urged  his  return,  but  had  con- 
cluded somewhat  wistfully  thus :  "  I  shall 
send  you  by  the  first  opportunity  some 
things  I  have  made  you,  to  remind  you  that 
I  love  and  think  of  you ;  and  I  hope  they 
will  add  to  your  comfort  this  cold  winter, 
too.  Oh,  dear,  how  pleasant  it  will  be  when 
the  Christmas  comes  which  will  bring  me  the 
gift  of  your  face !  This  Christmas  we  are 
not  to  meet ;  and  yet  we  shall  be  together, 
for  I  shall  be  with  you  in  spirit,  though  not 
in  body.  Do  not  forget  that.  Good-by, 
my  dear  son  ;  I  love  and  bless  you.  I  have 
written  a  stupid  letter,  but  my  head  aches 
to-day,  and  it  makes  me  stupid,  for  you  know 
I  never  have  headaches.  But  I  am  an  old 
woman  now  ;  my  hair  is  quite  white,  and  I 
wear  spectacles  all  the  time.  Your  father 
says  I  am  getting  decrepit,  and  makes  great 
fun  of  me.  He  sends  his  love,  and  bids  me 
tell  you  to  punch  a  freshman's  head  on  his 
account!  Good-by  from  your  own,  ownest 
mamma." 

"  God  bless  her  !  "  thought  Garth,  as  he 
folded  up  the  letter  ;  "  we'll  have  a  merrier 
Christmas  than  she  thinks  for.  Spirit  is  not 
enough  ;  we  must  be  together  in  body,  too. 
To  think  of  her  blessed  white  hair  and  her 
spectacles !  and  I  have  been  away  from  her 
a  whole  year  and  a  half!  She  was  my  first 
lady -love — and  she  is  still." 

Having  made  his  decision  and  his  few 
preparations,  time  dragged  till  he  could  de- 
part. He  called  at  Professor  Grindle's  to  ac- 
quaint him  with  his  proposed  journey. 

"  Is  your  mother  ill  ?  "  the  professor  de- 
manded. 

"  No  ;  but  I  haxen't  seen  her  for  a  year 
and  a  half." 

"  Well,  go  ahead.  I  had  intended  having 
you  take  your  Christmas  turkey  with  me, 
en  garpon.  That's  no  matter.  Remember 
me  to  your  father.  That  was  a  fine  thing 
of  his  in  the  last  North  American — '  Public 
Benefits  of  Private  History.'  Should  put 
the  notion  into  practice.  Good-by.  Don't 
forget  to  come  back  again  :  we'll  do  some- 
thing with  you  yet.  Love  to  your  father." 

Early  the  next  morning  Garth  set  forth, 
and  fought  his  way  northwestward  through 
the  mighty  snow-drifts.  He  had  ever  loved 


the  snow,  and,  as  a  boy,  enjoyed  plunging 
into  the  thickest  of  it.  But  now  he  became 
impatient  with  it.  It  checked  his  progress 
toward  his  goal ;  the  sport  of  his  childhood 
was  the  clog  of  his  elder  years.  The  stout 
horses  floundered  and  strained,  and  the 
buried  sleigh-runners  quivered  in  the  white 
furrows.  The  sharp  bells  clashed  and 
jangled,  the  driver  whooped  and  swore ; 
but,  in  spite  of  all,  the  pace  was  slow,  and 
the  delays  and  interruptions  many.  Under 
ordinary  circumstances  it  would  have  been 
a  glorious  sleigh-ride,  every  check  and  mis- 
hap a  source  of  fun  and  mirthful  uproar ; 
and  at  first  Garth  tried  to  regard  them  from 
the  humorous  standpoint ;  but  after  the 
first  day  the  joke  lost  it  point.  At  night  he 
dreamed  uneasily,  oppressed  with  a  night- 
mare notion  that  Urmlmrst  was  escaping 
from  him  on  sleigh -runners  ;  that  his  moth- 
er called  to  him  from  her  chamber-window, 
and  waved  her  hand ;  that  he  struggled  on- 
ward desparately,  and  at  last  seemed  gain- 
ing ;  that  now  he  was  close  upon  the  flying 
house — had  but  to  burst  throught  this  belt 
of  black  timber  and  he  would  be  there. 
But  when  he  emerged,  breathless,  there  was 
a  silent,  white,  open  space,  encircled  with  a 
serried  ring  of  naked  trees,  and  in  the  centre 
was  a  snow-covered  mound.  The  house  had 
vanished — whither  ?  Above  Wabeno  drifted 
a  gray  cloud,  which,  for  a  moment,  assumed 
the  familiar  outlines  of  his  lost  home ;  but 
where  was  his  mother  ? 

Starting  betimes  the  next  day,  Garth  had 
hopes  of  reaching  home  by  nightfall ;  but  a 
wind  arose,  accompanied  by  fresh  snow,  and 
progress  was  slower  than  yesterday.  The 
young  traveler  sat  muffled  in  his  seat,  wink- 
ing at  the  flakes  which  whirled  into  his 
eyes,  and  envying  the  warmth  of  the  toiling 
horses. 

Occasionally,  however,  a  vision  of  be- 
loved Urmhurst  and  of  those  he  would  find 
there  rose  vividly  in  his  imagination ;  he 
would  brighten  up  and  look  hopefully  to 
the  horizon  to  see  whether  the  cloud  which 
shut  down  upon  the  white  uplands  were  not 
lifting  a  little.  He  pictured  to  himself  the 
vast  chestnut-stump  spouting  fire  and  smoul- 
dering incandescent  on  the  roomy  hearth, 
its  flickering  blaze  gladdening  the  dark 


GAIN  AND  LOSS. 


79 


wainscot  and  smoky  ceiling  of  the  well- 
remembered  room.  There  sat  his  mother, 
with  glinting  knitting-needles,  and  white 
cap  on  white  hair,  anon  turning  her  face 
toward  the  snow-drifted  window,  and  think- 
ing of  the  son  whom  slie  believes  to  be 
scores  of  miles  away  at  Bowdoin.  How  joy- 
fully shall  she  be  disappointed  ! 

His  father,  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
fire,  perhaps  revolves  the  contents  of  Garth's 
last  letter,  wherein  enigmatic  allusion  is 
made  to  certain  pregnant  disturbances  which 
had  recently  occurred  in  the  writer's  men- 
tal domain,  and  threaten  to  overturn  the 
present  constitution  and  establish  a  new 
one,  hut  the  complete  annals  of  which  are  to 
be  reserved,  adds  the  letter,  until  the  meet- 
ing next  summer.  Destiny,  however,  has 
forbidden  so  long  a  delay,  and  Garth  will 
bring  forward  the  matter  this  very  night, 
if  Fortune  permit.  What  will  Grandfather 
Graeme  say  to  it,  and  Madge  ?  he  wonders. 

But,  alas !  day  is  already  drawing  to  a 
close,  and  it  is  too  evident  that  Urmhurst 
will  not  be  reached  to-night.  An  hour  after 
dark  the  sleigh  pulls  up  at  the  door  of  a 
wayside  inn,  and  Garth,  dismounting,  with 
stiff  joints,  eats  his  supper  before  the  kitchen 
fire,  and,  going  immediately  to  bed,  sleeps 
dreamlessly  till  morning. 

At  noon  of  the  third  day  they  jingle 
along  the  familiar  wood  path,  a  keen  sun 
sparkling  through  the  snow-frosted  boughs, 
and  lighting  up  the  dazzling  landscape  with 
exhilaration.  It  is  a  glorious  day,  fit  to 
celebrate  a  home-return.  There  is  no  gloom 
or  anxiety  in  Garth's  face  now,  but  unalloyed 
delight  and  genial  anticipation,  while  the 
thought  that  he  is  wholly  unexpected  adds 
a  fine  zest  to  his  enjoyment.  Now,  they 
draw  near;  yonder  through  the  trees  looms 
the  dark  side  of  the  dear  old  house :  how  dear 
it  is,  how  unchanged,  how  well  remem- 
bered! Now  some  one  has  stepped  out  on 
the  threshold.  His  mother?  no;  the  hair  is 
gray,  but  the  face  is  dusky — not  his  mother; 
it  is  the  old  Indian  woman,  Nikomis,  stand- 
ing with  her  broom,  on  the  cloven  thresh- 
old. At  the  sound  of  the  approaching  sleigh 
she  turns  her  head  and  looks  beneath  her 
leveled  hand.  Garth  shouts  and  waves  his 
cap  joyfully.  She  looks,  and  then  vanishes 


within-doors.  The  sleigh  comes  fleetly  up, 
and  stops,  and  Garth  springs  out  and  meets 
his  father  at  the  door. 

"How  are  you,  father?" 

"  Garth  !  "  Mr.  Urmson  opened  his  arms, 
and  the  two  embraced,  even  as  they  had 
done  at  parting,  eighteen  months  before. 
Then  they  looked  at  each  other.  Mr.  Urm- 
son had  a  flush  in  his  usually  pale  face,  and 
his  eyes  were  bright.  Garth  thought  he  ap- 
peared unusually  well.  There  was  a  little 
more  stoop,  another  wrinkle,  an  unsteadi- 
ness, perhaps.  Oh,  but  he  was  in  good  health 
and  heart ! 

'•You  could  not  have  got  my  letter?" 
said  Mr.  Urmson,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, still  standing  on  the  threshold. 

"  Mother's  you  mean.  Yes,  and  it  made 
me  come.  All  at  once  I  thought  I  must  see 
her.  Come  in,  dear.  Where  is  my  mamma?" 

"  Not  here.  You'll  see  her  by-and-by,  if 
you  are  a  good  boy.  You  did  not  stop  at  your 
grandfather's?  Sit  down.— You  may  go  up- 
stairs, Nikomis.  I  wrote  to  you  night  before 
last,  Garth— I  wrote  you  to  come ;  so  you 
anticipated  us.  Here's  a  joint  of  beef." 

"I'll  cut  it.  You're  tired,  your  hand 
trembles.  Oh,  I'm  glad  to  be  at  home! 
Nearly  three  days  getting  here,  father !  Is 
mother  well  ? " 

"I  believe  she  is  far  better  than  she  has 
ever  been.  So  my  friend  Grindle  has  been 
having  you  in  charge  ?  Has  he  succeeded  in 
getting  any  ideas  into  your  head  ? " 

"  O  father,  I  came  partly  to  talk  with 
you  about  it ;  hut  let  us  wait  till  my  mamma 
comes.  Will  it  be  long  ?  " 

"  What  would  Miss  Margaret  say  if  she 
knew  you  had  not  even  mentioned  her 
name  yet?  She  tells  me  that  she  writes  you 
long  letters,  and  you  never  answer  her  ques- 
tions. Wait,  I'll  get  you  the  mustard.  Now, 
beloved  Hottentot,  hadn't  you  better  open 
•your  heart  to  your  old  father?  Can't  you 
do  with  me  alone  for  half  an  hour  ? " 

Garth  laughed.  "You  see,  since  I've 
been  away  I've  always  thought  of  you  and 
mother  as  one.  It  seems"  as  though  you 
could  never  he  apart — when  one  of  you  goes 
to  heaven,  the  other  would  too.  Did  you 
say  she  was  at  grandfather's,  this  snowy 
day  ?  She  must  be  strong,  certainly !  Well, 


80 


GARTH. 


I'll  begin  to  tell  you — there's  plenty  of  it, 
and  yet  there  may  not  be  many  words  about 
it,  after  all.  You  know  I  bequeathed  you 
the  key  of  my  garret-room  when  I  went 
away  ?  I  meant  to  send  you  word,  as  soon 
as  I  got  pluck  enough  to  make  up  my  mind, 
to  open  the  place  and  burn  every  thing  in 
it.  It's  full  of  pictures  and  drawings  that  I 
made.  I  was  ashamed  to  have  done  them, 
and  yet  I  couldn't  stop  it — didn't  at  least. 
Now,  father,  I  hoped  you  would  turn  up 
your  eyebrow  in  that  way  you  used  to." 

"  I  see  you  already  have  the  artistic  per- 
ception ;  but  artists  are  not  usually  ashamed 
of  what  they  have  done  until  they  have  done 
something  better,  or  at  least  something  else. 
What  have  you  painted  since  you  were  in 
college  ? " 

"That  was  not  my  trouble.  My  idea 
was,  since  God  made  Nature,  it  must  be  per- 
fect :  so  what  business  has  man  to  make 
imitations  of  it — improvements  on  it,  rather? 
for  if  he  didn't  think  his  version  the  better, 
what  was  the  sense  of  his  doing  it  ?  " 

"  Ah !  you  were  very  sagacious.  But  you 
think  differently  now  ?  " 

Garth  settled  himself  back  in  his  chair, 
and  began  fumbling  with  his  hair. 

"  The  fact  is,  father,  I  want  to  think  dif- 
ferently so  much  that  I'm  afraid  to.  You 
know,  grandfather  used  to  say  whatever  a 
man  most  enjoyed  doing  was  not  the  right 
thing.  When  I  began  imitating  what  I  saw 
in  this  way,  I  only  thought  it  a  delightful 
discovery.  But,  when  the  idea  of  delightful 
things  being  wrong  got  in  my  head,  I  began 
to  fear  there  must  be  something  very  wrong 
in  my  discovery ;  and,  the  more  I  reasoned 
about  it,  the  more  it  seemed  so.  By-and-by, 
if  any  argument  to  the  contrary  suggested 
itself,  I  mistrusted  it  and  put  it  away.  Don't 
you  see  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  never  heard  you  talk  before. 
The  matter  has  loosed  your  tongue,  right  or 
wrong.  Let  us  hear  the  rest  of  it." 

"  I  am  it !  "  said  Garth,  dropping  his  hands 
on  his  knees  emphatically.  "Ive  tried  to 
put  it  out  of  my  mind,  but  all  I  do  and  think 
somehow  relates  to  it.  I  was  very  unhappy 
about  it:  I  believed  I  was  possessed  of  a 
devil.  At  last  Selwyn  told  me  I  had  genius, 
and  it  came  out  what  I  thought  about  paint- 


ing, and  he  laughed  at  me,  and  said  I  was  a 
fool.  It  seems  to  me  I  was  glad  to  have  him 
think  so,  though  I  didn't  admit  it.  Later, 
Professor  Grindle  happened  to  say  that  Na- 
ture came  transfigured  through  painters ; 
and  I  found  things  about  painting  in  his  li- 
brary, and  also  engravings  of  pictures.  Per- 
haps I  was  wrong :  painting  is  not  irrever- 
ent ?  If  you  think  it  is  not,  and  if  you  can 
show  me  why,  I — " 

He  stopped,  kindled  to  a  high  pitch  of 
feeling. 

Mr.  Urmson  partly  smiled.  uSo,  after 
all,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  gazing  in  the  fire, 
"  your  grandfather  did  have  a  hand  in  your 
education.  You  are  a  queer  instrument  to 
play  upon,  and  he  struck  a  perilous  note, 
though  it  may  enrich  the  harmony  at  last. 
Painter !  perhaps  it's  as  well  I  did  not  think 
of  that.  What  would  she  have  thought  ? — 
perhaps  it  is  as  well." 

"  Father,  do  you  sigh  because  I'm 
wrong?"  demanded  Garth,  clearing  his 
throat. 

"  Sighing,  was  I  ?  Well,  old  gentleman, 
because  there  is  a  finer  kind  of  gifts  called 
bereavements ;  but  gifts  are  gifts,  too,  in 
spite  of  your  scruples.  Painting  irreverent  ? 
Why,  is  history — I  mean  real  not  written 
history — irreverent  ?  History  is  the  painting 
of  time :  it  is  Nature  fused  in  man.  I  should 
call  it  worship." 

"But  history  is  not  imitation." 

"Not  more  than  Nature  and  ^rnan  are 
imitations,  or  approximations.  The  Lord  is 
the  sole  original  type.  Man  sees  himself  in 
Nature  something  as  the  Parthenon  might 
see  itself  in  the  marble-quarry,  and  in  God 
as  the  Parthenon  might  behold  its  ideal  in 
some  cloud-temple.  A  painter  divines  an 
interior  human  significance  in  hills,  trees, 
and  rivers,  in  flowers  or  in  castles ;  he  se- 
lects and  combines  them  to  the  tune  of  his 
own  best  ideas — which  are  himself,  as  him- 
self is  his  peculiar  view  of  the  Creator— and 
thus  recognizes,  and,  so  far  as  he  may,  as- 
sists the  Creator's  purpose.  That  is,  he  lets 
the  Lord  work  through  him ;  for  the  Lord 
is  at  the  bottom  of  every  man,  and  art  is  the 
divinity  cropping  out." 

"Yes,  yes!"  cried  Garth,  half  getting 
up,  and  sitting  down  again. 


GAIN  AND  LOSS. 


81 


"If  you  declare  \var  against  painters, 
your  hand  will  be  against  every  honest  man, 
yourself,  let  us  hope,  among  the  rest.  Only 
evil  is  inartistic.  As  for  paint  and  canvas, 
they  are  the  least  essential  elements  in  a 
picture." 

" Then  ought  they  to  be  used  at  all?  " 

"Why,  yes;  they  suggest  a  world  of 
more  harmonious  forms  and  tints  than  hu- 
man beings  ever  see.  They  are  often  mis- 
used to  deceive  the  eye — as  if  the  essential 
perfections  of  Nature  could  be  copied  1  We 
can  improve  the  world,  and  set  it  in  a  better 
light ;  but  we  cannot  reproduce  it.  A  true 
painter  paints  a  heaven  of  his  own  out  of 
materials  earth  affords  him,  but  does  not 
ask  us  to  mistake  the  suggestion  for  the  re- 
ality ;  so  both  he  and  we  are  the  better  for 
his  work.  However,  if  you  are  a  painter, 
old  gentleman,  you  must  understand  all  this 
better  than  I  do.  Your  scruples  were  not 
very  wise ;  but,  if  you  are  otherwise  gifted 
for  the  trade,  I  dare  say  you'll  be  the  better 
for  having  had  them.  So  this  was  the  mys- 
tery of  the  attic  ?  " 

"I  feel  it  now,"  muttered  Garth,  ab- 
sorbed, and  with  his  head  in  the  air.  "  Men 
find  their  ideal  selves  in  Nature,  and  paint 
that.  Yes,  it  is  a  kind  of  worship.  Father, 
I  never  was  so  happy  in  all  my  life.  But 
what  will  mother  say  ?  —  will  she  under- 
stand?" 

As  the  elder  man  met  the  younger's  eyes, 
tears  rose  in  his  own.  He  did  not  brush 
them  away,  nor  attempt  to  keep  them  back, 
and  Garth  saw  them  as  they  rolled  slow- 
ly down  his  cheeks.  How  old  his  father 
looked!  What  did  these  tears  betoken? — 
profounder  sympathy  with  his  rejoicing  than 
could  be  borne  on  a  smile  ?  Almost  imme- 
diately Mr.  Urmson  spoke : 

"Hold  on  to  that  happiness  as  long  as 
you  live:  you  have  a  right  to  it.  You'll 
have  griefs  enough ;  but,  if  you  are  a  painter 
and  an  honest  man,  the  happiness  of  being 
useful  in  a  high  way  to  human  beings  must 
underlie  any  grief.  Perhaps,"  he  added, 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  looking  at 
Garth  with  keen  steadfastness,  "the  mo- 
ment of  greatest  happiness  cau  best  bear  a 
heavy  loss." 

"Father?" 
G 


The  blithe  jingling  of  sleigh-bells  came 
nearer,  and  paused  at  the  door.  Garth  got 
up  excitedly.  "  There  is  mother  1  "  ex- 
claimed he. 

There  was  a  pause ;  then  heavy  steps  and 
the  low  booming  of  a  rugged  voice;  and 
withal  alight  step  and  soft,  pleasingly  modu- 
lated tone — all  familiar  to  Garth.  His  grand- 
father and  Madge  came  in,  but,  on  seeing 
Garth,  stopped  near  the  open  doorway.  The 
latter  came  forward  a  few  steps,  and  then 
stopped  also,  throwing  a  questioning,  sus- 
picious glance  at  each  face  in  turn.  Mr. 
Urmson  remained  motionless  in  his  chair. 

"  Garth,  dear  lad,"  rumbled  the  vener- 
able pastor,  holding  out  both  his  aged  hands, 
which  trembled  somewhat  —  indeed,  the 
whole  man  seemed  more  infirm  and  ploughed 
with  years  than  Garth  had  expected  to  find 
him  —  "  Garth,  poor  lad,  bear  up  :  that's 
right;  be  like  me  and  your  father.  The 
Lord  giveth  and  he  taketh  away.  Bear  up, 
bear  up,  dear  boy,  like  me  and  your  good 
father.  Here's  the  dear  child  —  I  brought 
her  along.  They  said  in  town  you'd  just 
come  back,  and  I  didn't  lose  a  moment.  Ay, 
she'll  kiss  your  tears  away.  Bear  up,  lad — 
be  an  Urmson.  That's  right !  that's  right  I  " 

Madge  had  come  close  to  Garth's  other 
side,  and  taken  between  hers  his  heavy- 
hanging  hand,  upturning  the  while  a  lovely 
rosy  face,  buried  warm  in  the  furred  hood. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry !  "  she  murmured ; 
"and  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  back.  How 
did  you  come  so  quick? — but  you  are  al- 
ways cleverer  than  anybody.  How  sad  you 
must  feel! — I'm  sure  I  do.  I  cried  so  all 
last  night." 

Garth  shook  himself  free  from  both  his 
grandfather  and  Madge,  and  turned  toward 
his  father,  exclaiming  in  a  tone  apparently 
of  gruff  irritation,  "  Has  anything  happened  ? 
— didn't  mother  come  with  you  ?  where  is 
she?" 

"  Oh,  doesn't  he  know  ? — Why,  don't  you 
know,  dear  ?  "  exclaimed  Madge,  with  a  kind 
of  eagerness. — "  Let  me  tell  him. — Oh,  how 
can  I  tell  you!  Oh,  Garth,  it  is  so  terri- 
ble ! " 

Garth  came  over  to  Mr.  Urmson's  chair, 
and  resting  one  hand  upon  it,  bent  toward 
him.  "  Father !  "  said  he,  in  a  love  voice. 


82 


GAETH. 


"  I  wanted  you  to  see  that  I  could  bear 
it,  Garth — it  comes  hard  to  me:  and  you 
have  your  happiness  besides.  Your  mother 
died  the  day  before  yesterday." 

"  Did  she  ?  "  faltered  Garth,  with  an  im- 
pulse partly  incredulous,  partly  rebellious. 
No  one  spoke  while  he  stood  fumbling  with 
a  button  of  his  coat,  and  staring  at  the  wall. 
In  a  minute  he  walked  to  the  door,  half 
opened  it,  and  turned  back.  "  Has  she  gone 
up-stairs?  I  mean,"  he  added,  stamping  his 
foot,  impatiently,  "  where — where — " 


"  Oh,  he  doesn't  know !  Let  me  show 
you,  dear  :  it's  up  in  the  east  chamber." 

Garth  turned  upon  her  with  such  a  frown 
as  frightened  her  into  silence.  "  I'll  meet 
my  mother  alone,"  said  he.  He  walked 
quickly  down  the  hall,  and  bounded  up- 
stairs. At  the  door  of  the  east  chamber 
stood  a  dusky  figure  —  old  Nikomis.  As 
Garth  came  up  she  threw  open  the  door, 
and,  when  he  had  entered,  closed  it  behind 
him  and  listened ;  but  no  sound  came  from 
within. 


BOOK  IV.. 
COLLISION. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

TWO     AND     A     PAIR. 

IT  is  not  my  purpose  to  invite  the  reader 
across  the  threshold  of  the  room  where  the 
dead  body  lies.  Let  us  rather  take  a  new 
departure,  and,  forbearing  to  trace  directly 
the  events  of  the  next  few  years,  rejoin  the 
square-visaged,  dark-browed  young  man  in 
farmer's  attire,  whom  we  left,  many  pages 
since,  at  his  morning  easel  on  the  shore  of 
the  quiet  lake.  For  Garth,  as  will  already 
have  been  divined,  was  an  artist;  a  fisher, 
not  of  fish,  but  of  Nature  and  of  man. 

Here  again  are  the  level  translucence  of 
the  silent  surface,  the  golden  islet  at  the 
cove's  month,  the  glory  of  the  October 
woods,  the  distant  pomp  of  "Wabeno,  every- 
thing as  before,  save  that  the  day  is  three 
or  four  hours  older.  The  stillness  of  the 
early  morning  has  melted  into  a  voiceless- 
ness  yet  more  profound,  as  though  Nature 
were  hushing  herself  to  sleep  beneath  the 
overriding  sun.  When  Garth  trilled  fortli 
a  snatch  of  mellow  whistling,  or  tapped  his 
easel  musingly  with  the  handle  of  the  paint- 
-brush, the  sound  went  titillating  across  the 
lake,  and  sometimes  tiptoed  softly  back 


again.  The  young  man  preferred  whis- 
tling to  any  other  form  of  soliloquy.  There 
was  a  satisfaction  in  the  accurate  phras- 
ing of  a  scrap  of  a  tune  which  resembled 
that  conveyed  by  a  happy  stroke  of  the 
brush. 

At  length  he  glanced  at  the  sun,  and  told 
himself  that  it  must  be  after  eleven — too 
late  for  any  more  morning  effects.    How- 
ever, the  sketch  was  nearly  finished,  and  the 
meaning  which  he  had  meant  to  bring  out 
I  was  sufficiently  indicated.    His  father  Avould 
!  understand  it.    Madge  would  not ;  no  mat- 
!  ter — it  was  there.    By-the-way,  where  was 
!  Madge?     Eleven  o'clock,  and  she  was  to 
I  have  been  down  there  at  ten  to  go  on  a  nut- 
ting-expedition.    She  had  been  looking  for- 
!  ward  to  it  for  some  days;  what  could  have 
induced  her  to  change  her  mind  ? 

Garth  rose,  and,  going  to  the  water's 
edge,  picked  up  his  hat,  which  lay  amphibi- 
ously on  the  margin.  He  had  put  it  there 
for  the  violet's  sake,  and,  on  examining  the 
flower,  he  found  it  almost  as  fresh  as  when 
first  plucked.  "  It  will  fade  before  she  gets 
it,  though,"  thought  Garth,  "and  Madge 
doesn't  care  for  faded  things.  Well,  and 
why  should  she?  She's  young,  and  healthy, 
and  beautiful,  and  happy,  I  suppose.  I 


TWO   AND   A   PAIR. 


83 


wouldn't  have  her  morbid  and  sentimental, 
would  I  ?  " 

He  turned  back  to  his  easel,  and  began 
slowly  to  pack  up  his  implements  prepara- 
tory to  going  home.  In  the  midst  of  this 
employment  he  was  startled  by  a  distant 
warble  of  song.  It  came  from  no  bird's 
throat,  nor  could  any  man  have  uttered  it. 
It  was  clear,  elastic,  pure,  and  full  of  exalta- 
tion, mingled  with  sadness ;  for  sadness 
overtakes  and  sweetens  the  merriest  sound 
that  comes  from  afar  off.  Such  as  it  was, 
it  went  straight  to  Garth's  heart.  lie  loved 
music  profoundly,  for  he  was  a  man  of  fine 
ear  and  deep  emotional  perception;  but 
there  was  little  music  to  be  had  in  the  vil- 
lage, and  he  was  generally  reduced  to  im- 
agining symphonies  of  his  own  in  the  roar 
and  murmur  of  the  oaks  and  hemlocks  out- 
side his  studio-window. 

The  outburst  of  song  died  away,  and  a 
few  moments  afterward  Garth  began  to 
doubt  whether  his  fancy  had  not  played  him 
a  trick  by  developing  the  strain  from  some 
slight  natural  origin.  As  he  debated  the  mat- 
ter with  himself,  he  was  all  at  once  inexplica- 
bly reminded  of  a  face  which  he  had  seen  a 
year  or  two  ago,  the  image  whereof  had  staid 
so  persistently  in  his  memory  that  at  length, 
to  be  rid  of  it,  he  had  put  it  on  canvas.  It 
was  a  face  which  few  people  would  have  pro- 
nounced beautiful,  but  for  the  artist  it  had  a 
singular  fascination.  Its  lines  appeared  at 
the  first  glance  discordant  and  irregular,  but 
presently  an  inner  harmony  and  significance 
began  to  declare  themselves,  of  a  kind  to 
which  the  ordinary  gauges  of  female  beauty 
could  not  be  applied.  Mr.  Urmson,  to  whom 
Garth  once  showed  his  sketch,  studied  it  a 
good  while  in  silence,  and  finally  said,  with 
one  of  his  kindly,  penetrating  smiles  :  "  Well, 
old  gentleman,  it's  an  odd  face,  and,  if  I  once 
happened  to  like  it,  I  can  imagine  my  not 
soon  getting  tired  of  it.  Bat  what  does 
Madge  think  of  it?" 

"I  haven't  shown  it  to  her,"  Garth  re- 
plied, slightly  reddening  ;  "  but  I  know  she 
would  think  it  ugly."  And,  whether  for 
that  or  for  some  better  reason,  he  never 
did  show  it  to  her,  either  then  or  there- 
after. 

It  must  not  be  inferred,  however,  that 


he  now  recalled  the  face  merely  because  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  brooding  over  it,  and  of 
associating  it  with  all  kinds  of  pleasant  im- 
pressions, visible  or  audible.  As  a  man  of 
principle,  whose  affections  were  engaged 
elsewhere,  he  would  not  knowingly  have  al- 
lowed himself  such  an  indulgence.  It  must 
be  accepted  that  there  was  some  genuine 
affinity  between  the  voice  and  the  counte- 
nance, that  there  was  that  in  the  one  which 
might  recall  the  other  to  a  man  of  genius, 
say,  in  a  particularly  lucid  and  impression- 
able mood.  Meanwhile,  the  melodious  out- 
break had  been  so  unexpected,  so  charming, 
and  withal  so  fairy-like,  that  Garth  would 
certainly  have  laid  it  to  his  imagination,  had 
it  not  of  a  sudden  been  repeated,  this  time 
sounding  nearer,  and  unmistakably  distinct. 

He  turned  sharply  round,  and  saw  a 
woman's  figure  standing  near  the  extrem- 
ity of  the  tongue  of  land  which  formed  the 
western  side  of  the  cove.  Her  scarlet  jacket, 
and  the  peculiarly-shaped  straw  hat  which 
she  wore,  left  him  no  doubt  as  to  her  being 
Madge.  But  where  did  the  voice  come 
from  ? 

"  Have  the  morning  and  the  autumn 
tints  got  into  her  throat?"  he  asked  him- 
self. "  Madge  has  been  anything  except 
musical  heretofore.  Can  she  be  a  Jenny 
Lind  without  my  having  suspected  it  ?  No ! 
It  was  that  quarter  of  a  mile  of  air  and  wa- 
ter that  did  it.  But  can  mere  distance  weave 
such  a  spell  as  that  ?  I  don't  believe  it  was 
her  voice,  after  all !  " 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  denial,  the  figure 
in  the  scarlet  jacket  caroled  forth  a  bar  of 
melody  for  the  third  time.  She  seemed  to 
be  trying  her  voice,  or  enjoying  the  answer- 
ing music  of  the  echoes.  Apparently  she 
had  not  yet  seen  Garth  ;  so  he,  after  listen- 
ing until  the  last  pulsation  of  sound  had 
died  away,  called  out  to  her,  and  beckoned 
with  his  hand.  She  looked  at  him,  and 
then,  without  making  any  answering  sa- 
lute, turned  away  and  passed  out  of  view. 
Garth  fancied  she  moved  with  a  more  state- 
ly step  than  was  her  wont.  Madge  was  al- 
ways graceful  as  a  panther,  but  she  could 
hardly  be  called  dignified. 

The  artist  resumed  his  packing  in  a  state 
of  mind  midway  between  exhilaration  and 


GARTH. 


perplexity.  Every  true  lover  believes  that 
he  believes  the  woman  of  his  choice  to  be 
perfection.  If,  then,  she  dawns  upon  him 
in  a  new  light,  delightfully  transcending  his 
past  knowledge  of  her,  he  feels  bound  to  be 
jealous  of  his  own  former  opinion  of  her. 
He  must  be  displeased  that  she  pleases  him 
more  than  at  the  beginning :  and  yet  how 
can  he  slight  the  new-comer  without  doubly 
forsaking  her  predecessor  ? 

Entangled  in  this  whimsical  quandary, 
Garth  all  at  once  heard  himself  addressed 
from  behind  by  a  courteous  male  voice, 
which,  despite  its  courtesy,  impressed  him 
with  a  feeling  of  distrust  and  aversion.  He 
turned  about  with  a  kind  of  indignation, 
but  what  he  saw  so  far  modified  his  emotion 
as  to  make  him  bow  very  politely. 

A  lady  and  gentleman  were  standing  to- 
gether on  the  turf  that  sloped  to  the  beach. 
The  latter  had  much  the  advantage  in  years 
over  his  companion,  though  he  still  might 
have  passed  for  forty.  His  appearance  was 
rather  prepossessing  than  otherwise,  and  his 
bearing  was  at  once  affable  and  polished. 
At  the  same  time,  his  effect  was  slightly 
contradictory.  His  forehead  might,  with  a 
trifle  more  arch  and  height  about  the  tem- 
ples, have  been  called  noble.  The  brow 
was  level  and  handsome,  but  the  eyes  were 
veiled  behind  a  pair  of  bluish-tinted  glasses 
set  in  tortoise-shell — which  glasses  had  a 
polish  of  their  own  that  was  somewhat  too 
obtrusive.  The  nose  which  they  bestrode, 
though  a  trifle  too  long,  was  perhaps  the 
most  unexceptionable  feature  in  the  face  ;  it 
was  straight  and  delicately  moulded.  The 
whole  countenance  had  a  Jewish  cast,  which 
enhanced  rather  than  detracted  from  its 
cultured  aspect.  The  lower  part  of  the  vis- 
age was  undecipherable,  owing  to  the  fact 
that  the  stranger  wore  a  mustache,  a  pair 
of  whiskers,  and  an  imperial,  each  of  which 
grew  independently,  and  were  separately  un- 
impeachable ;  but,  taken  together,  destroyed 
one  another's  effect. 

The  gentleman  was  dressed  in  a  quiet  but 
fashionably-cut  suit  of  tweed,  and  held  in  his 
hand  a  soft,  Italian-looking  felt  hat.  In  the 
other  hand  he  carried  a  short,  pliable  cane, 
which  the  spurs  on  his  neatly-fitting  boots 
argued  a  riding-whip.  These  boots,  which 


reached  to  the  knee,  gave  the  lower  part  of 
the  figure  a  dapper  air  contrasting  oddly 
with  the  unassuming  elegance  of  the  gentle- 
man's upper  half.  How  came  the  owner  of 
so  fair  a  forehead  to  be  supported  upon  so 
sportive  a  pair  of  legs  ?  The  inconsistency 
would  have  been  unaccountable  but  for  that 
triple  growth  of  beard,  which  somewhat 
prepared  the  mind  for  other  vagaries. 

The  stranger's  first  address,  while  per- 
fectly civil,  had  been  couched  in  the  tone  of 
a  superior.  But  on  encountering  Garth's 
glance  he  seemed,  by  some  imperceptible 
process,  to  shift  his  standpoint.  He  smiled 
behind  his  glasses,  tapped  his  boot  with  his 
riding-whip,  and  returned  the  artist's  bow. 

"Pardon  us,  sir,"  he  said.  "We  have 
intruded  unceremoniously ;  but,  frankly, 
we — " 

"  Can  you  direct  us  how  to  get  back  to 
Urmhurst  ? "  interposed  the  young  lady,  in 
a  low  but  very  distinct  tone.  She  looked  at 
Garth  as  she  spoke,  and  their  glances  met. 
Garth  so  far  forgot  his  manners  as  to  stare 
for  several  moments  without  making  any 
reply.  At  length  the  young  lady  turned 
away  with  a  haughty  movement  of  the  lips 
and  eyebrows,  and  seemed  about  to  re- 
tire. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  exclaimed  the 
artist,  immediately;  "yes,  I  can  take  you 
to  Urmhurst,  if  you'll  wait  till  I  get  this 
easel  packed.  I  was  going  there  myself." 

"  Ah,  thanks,"  said  the  bearded  gentle- 
man. "  Elinor,  my  dear,  you'll  wait  ?  since 
our  friend  is  so  kind  as  to  offer  to  guide  us. 
I  used  to  be  familiar  with  these  woods  my- 
self when  a  boy,"  he  continued,  to  Garth ; 
"  but,  ah!  "  putting  on  his  hat,  and  shaking 
his  head  with  a  melancholy  smile,  "  one  for- 
gets, you  know — one  forgets.  And  yet  it 
begins  to  come  back  to  me;  yes,  yes!  I 
believe  I  bathed  in  this  very  cove  thirty 
years  ago,  or  nearly  that ;  and  caught  pike 
(or  pickerel,  as  you  would  call  them)  through 
the  ice  in  winter.  You  are  an  artist,  I  per- 
ceive— would  you  allow  me  ?  Ah,  ah  !  by 
George,  that's  a  fine  effect  you  have  caught 
there — wonderfully  true  and  delicate.  H'm! 
now  might  I  ask  whether  you  reside  here- 
abouts, and  happen  to  be  personally  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Cuthbert  Urmson  ?  Ah ! 


TWO  AND  A  PAIR. 


85 


and  how  is  he  getting  on  ?  Is  he  quite 
well  ?  " 

The  young  lady  here  interposed  again,  in 
the  same  low  tone  :  "  Perhaps  this  gentle- 
man is  an  Urmson  himself." 

"  My  name  is  Garth  Urmson,"  acknowl- 
edged the  artist,  who  had  now  finished  ty- 
ing up  his  bundle.  He  was  thinking  to  him- 
self that  this  indifferent  and  somewhat 
supercilious  young  lady  had  a  good  deal  of 
penetration.  "  I  have  seen  you  before,"  he 
said  to  her,  "  in  the  crystal  mirror  at  the 
Green  Vaults  in  Dresden." 

"I  am  Miss  Golightley,"  returned  the 
young  lady,  composedly.  "  I  suppose  this  is 
your  uncle — Mr.  Golightley  Urmson." 

"My  dear,  dear  boy!"  exclaimed  the 
booted  gentleman,  stepping  hastily  up,  and 
tucking  his  whip  under  his  arm  in  order  to 
grasp  Garth's  free  hand  in  both  his  own.  His 
greeting  was  very  warm.  "  My  dear,  dear 
nephew !  "  he  repeated. 

The  three  now  walked  on  together  for  a 
short  time  in  silence,  this  unexpected  recog- 
nition seeming  to  have  taken  the  breath  out 
of  conversation.  Miss  Golightley  was  a  little 
in  advance,  and  Garth  took  the  opportunity 
to  examine  her  narrowly.  She  was  a  trifle 
above  the  medium  height,  but  looked  taller, 
owing  to  her  manner  of  carrying  herself, 
which  was  unusually  dignified.  A  loose 
scarlet  jacket,  fantastically  embroidered 
round  the  edges,  was  thrown  cloakwise 
over  her  shoulders.  Her  face  was  of  a 
kind  more  likely  to  command  interest  than 
to  show  it.  There  was  nobility  in  it,  veiled, 
however,  by  an  indifferent  expression  akin 
to  cynicism.  The  eyes  were  gray,  and  the 
left  one  was  a  little  smaller  than  the  other ; 
but  their  shape,  and  the  manner  in  which 
they  were  set  beneath  the  clear,  delicate 
brows,  were  such  as  the  artist  knew  how 
to  appreciate.  The  high  cheek-bones  were 
rounded  into  somewhat  undue  prominence, 
and,  though  the  nose  was  small,  the  chin 
had  too  much  decision.  The  mouth  was 
the  only  technically  faultless  feature;  it  was 
exquisitely  curved  and  refined  ;  but  the  lips 
were  too  pale,  and  there  was  a  touch  of 
disdain  upon  them.  Especially  noticeable 
to  Garth  was  the  gem-like  purity  of  the  fa- 
cial contours  ;  the  lines  were  as  smooth  and 


'  sharp  as  the  cutting  of  a  cameo.     For  the 

rest,  her  slight  figure  gave  promise  of  full 

womanly  development,  and  one  of  her  small, 

!  ungloved  hands  was  bleeding  from  the  scratch 

of  a  thorn. 

"  It  was  your  voice  I  heard  across  the 
cove  ?  "  Garth  asked,  breaking  the  silence. 

"  Yes ;  I  was  trying  the  echo.  I  didn't 
know  any  one  was  within  hearing." 

"  I  liked  your  voice  very  much." 

"  I  sing  very  well.  I  have  had  the  best 
masters,"  said  this  imperturbable  young  lady. 

"  Your  hat  and  cloak  made  me  mistake 
you  for  some  one  else." 

"  I  saw  in  the  village  yesterday  a  very 
pretty  girl  with  a  hat  like  this,  so  I  made 
over  mine  to  resemble  it.  She  must  have  a 
great  deal  of  taste.  Who  is  she  ? " 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  Margaret  Danver," 
said  Garth,  his  color  rising  a  little. 

"  I  have  seen  girls  not  unlike  her  in  Nor- 
mandy. But  Margaret  Danver  is  prettier." 

"  She's  of  French  descent — Acadian." 

"  Danver  ?  Yes ;  the  good  people  with 
whom  you  and  your  mother  thought  of  tak- 
ing lodgings,"  observed  Uncle  Golightley, 
who  had  been  walking  along  humming  to 
himself  in  a  preoccupied  manner.  "  A  love- 
ly child,  that  Maggie,  as  Mr.  Graeme  calls 
her.  By -the -by,  my  dear  Garth,  your 
mother  was  a  Danver ;  yes,  the  same  family. 
My  mother,  you  know,  was  a  Golightley ; 
and  Miss  Elinor  here  is — how  is  it,  my  dear? 
— my  mother's  grand-niece.  So  we  call  our- 
selves cousins  —  don't  we,  Elinor  ? — But, 
Garth,"  he  went  on,  resting  his  hand  affec- 
tionately on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  "tell 
me  all  about  Cuthbert — all  about  your  dear 
father.  Is  he  well  ?  Is  he  happy  ? " 

"  He  has  grown  old,  all  but  his  eyes  and 
voice.  When  did  you  arrive,  Uncle  Golight- 
ley?" 

"  Oh,  yesterday — yesterday  afternoon. 
We  left  Europe  very  suddenly,  you  see. 
Well,  and  this  morning  Miss  Elinor  here  in- 
sisted upon  exploring  the  forest  primeval 
and  getting  lost  in  it.  Yes,  she  takes  to  the 
woods  like  a  native,  she  who  is  next  thing  to 
being  a  native  of  Europe.  And  I — you  can 
never  know,  Garth,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Go- 
lightley, in  a  burst  of  confidence,  "how  I 
rejoice  to  find  myself  here  once  more.  By 


86 


GARTH. 


George !  but  to  think  that  such  a  solid,  flesh-  | 
and-blood  fact  as  you  are  should  have  wholly 
come  into  existence  since  I  was  last  at  Urm- 
hurst !  You  know  I  sailed  for  Europe  the 
year  you  were  born,  and  my  good  father 
died — dear  old  Captain  Brian!  You  are 
very  like  him,  your  face  and  build.  And 
so  you're  an  artist?  really  a  painter?  By 
George !  I  envy  you.  Art  was  a  dream  of 
my  youthful  days,  too  ;  but  I  couldn't  do  it ; 
hadn't  the  physical  stamina.  O  for  a  year 
of  your  arms  and  chest,  by  George !  And 
you're  succeeding — that  goes  without  say- 
ing?" 

"I  manage  to  live,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  returned  Garth,  gravely.  ''  But  that 
costs  little  here." 

"  Ah !  Well,  my  dear  boy,  you  are  quite 
right  to  make  your  art  an  end,  not  a  means," 
observed  his  uncle,  stroking  forward  his  hair 
above  his  ears.  "  That's  what  I  have  always 
longed  to  do — take  what  Fortune  sent,  and 
be  rich  only  in  the  joy  of  creating." 

"  And  in  the  money  of  other  people," 
Garth  felt  tempted  to  add,  but  he  forbore. 
He  had  long  since  settled  it  in  his  mind  that 
his  uncle  had  a  moral  if  not  a  legal  right  to 
at  least  half  of  the  property ;  and  though  of 
late  years  his  drafts  had  swallowed  up  not 
only  the  income  of  the  family  estate,  but  the 
greater  portion  of  the  estate  itself,  neither 
Garth  nor  his  father  had  hesitated  about 
paying  them.  Golightley  had  accompanied 
each  draft  with  the  assurance  that  it  would 
be  the  last,  and  that  the  profits  from  this  or 
that  speculation  would  place  them  all  for- 
ever beyond  the  reach  of  want.  Nothing 
could  be  further  from  his  intention — so  he 
had  always  declared — than  permanently  to 
possess  himself  of  a  dollar  of  the  family  in- 
heritance. Doubtless  he  meant  what  he 
said ;  and  if  he  were  really  aware  of  any 
moral  claim  to  the  money  he  spent,  his  con- 
duct might  be  regarded  as  quite  justifiable. 
Besides,  during  the  last  twelve  months  his 
applications  had  altogether  ceased,  and  noth- 
ing good  or  bad  had  been  heard  of  him. 
Perhaps  the  great  fortune  had  at  last  been 
made,  and  Golightley  returned  to  make  the 
long-promised  restitution. 

But  Garth  did  not  feel  inclined  to  con- 
tinue thia  particular  vein  of  conversation, 


so  he  turned  to  Miss  Elinor,  and  asked 
whether  she  had  settled  to  lodge  with  Mrs. 
Danver. 

"Mother  was  going  to  see  her  to-day,'' 
replied  the  young  lady.  "  She  seemed  to 
me  an  honest  and  cleanly  sort  of  person,  and 
I  am  very  much  pleased  with  tbe  girl  you 
say  is  her  daughter." 

This  speech,  quietly  as  it  was  given, 
nettled  Garth  exceedingly.  Who  was  this 
gray-eyed,  self-complacent  young  aristocrat 
who  presumed  to  speak  of  his  future  mother- 
in-law  as  "honest  and  clean,"  and  of  his 
betrothed  wife  as  of  some  pretty  animal? 
No  doubt  she  regarded  him  as  a  country 
bumpkin,  and  would  treat  his  father  as  an 
entertaining  old  peasant!  If  only  she  had 
been  a  man,  Garth  would  have  knocked  her 
down  without  more  ceremony.  And  yet  he 
could  understand  that  to  a  person  of  foreign 
education  and  prejudices,  who  had  been 
bred  to  luxury  and  to  a  belief  in  caste,  the 
ruggedness  of  country  life  and  appearances 
might  be  indistinguishable  from  vulgarity. 
Having  paused  awhile,  therefore,  to  give 
his  resentment  time  to  cool,  he  answered 
with  grim  simplicity : 

"  Honesty  and  cleanliness  are  great  vir- 
tues ;  many  people  are  well  off  with  only 
one  of  them,  and  not  many  have  both." 

"  I  was  speaking  of  Mrs.  Danver  in  her 
capacity  as  landlady ;  excuse  me  for  forget- 
ting that  she  is  a  relative  of  yours,"  said 
Miss  Elinor,  ceremoniously. 

"  Iv'e  often  warned  you,  my  dear,"  ob- 
served Uncle  Golightley,  throwing  up  his 
chin  and  handling  his  imperial,  "  that  we 
New-Englanders  have  democratic  notions 
that  will  strike  you  harshly  at  first." 

"I  agree  with  what  Mr.  Urmson  just 
said,  though,"  rejoined  she  with  some  em- 
phasis, and  a  faint  pinkness  in  her  clear 
cheeks.  "  I  should  be  satisfied  to  be  hon- 
est and  clean  myself,  and  that  is  all  I  shall 
require  of  other  people." 

"  Brava,  brava!"  cried  Uncle  Golight- 
ley, smiling,  and  gently  clapping  his  hands. 
"We'll  make  a  Yankee  of  her  yet— eh, 
Garth  ? " 

Garth  kept  silence,  but  liked  the  super- 
cilious young  lady  a  little  better.  Suddenly 
his  uncle  turned  upon  him  and  asked  : 


TWO   AND   A  PAIR. 


87 


"  But  didn't  you  say  something,  my  dear 
boy,  about  baving  seen  us  in  Dresden  ?  " 

"  I  saw  Miss  Goligbtley,  and  an  old  lady 
and  gentleman — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Goligbtley, 
perhaps." 

Uncle  Goligbtley  placed  a  band  of  gentle 
admonition  on  Garth's  arm,  and  then  laid 
his  long  forefinger  on  bis  lips.  "You  were 
misled  by  our  dear  Elinor's  speaking  of 
'  mother,' "  said  be  in  an  undertone.  "  No; 
it  was  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tenterden.  Elinor's 
father  and  mother  died  in  Charleston,  of 
yellow  fever,  upward  of  ten  years  ago.  The 
Tenterdens,  having  no  children,  adopted  ber. 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  by-the-by,  was  a  Goligbt- 
ley— only  daughter  of  my  mother's  first 
marriage.  You  know,  my  mother  was  a 
widow  when  she  came  North  and  married 
Captain  Brian  ? " 

Garth  believed  he  did  know  that. 

"  Yes.  Well,  then,  last  year  came  our 
great  grief,  Mr.  Tenterden's  death.  Dear 
John!  dear,  good  John  Tenterden ! — Ah!  I 
shouldn't  have  mentioned  this  before  you," 
he  added,  turning  to  Elinor,  and  drawing 
her  reluctant  hand  tenderly  under  his  arm. 

"  Mentioning  does  not  make  it  worse," 
said  she,  with  a  peculiar  compression  of  the 
corners  of  her  mouth.  In  a  few  moments 
she  quietly  drew  away  from  her  cousin's 
affectionate  support,  and  walked  by  herself 
just  within  the  verge  of  the  trees.  Golight- 
ley,  who  seemed  under  a  necessity  of  con- 
stantly touching  somebody,  leaned  once 
more  upon  Garth's  shoulder,  and  continued : 

"  Poor  John !  it  was  so  sudden — heart- 
disease,  you  know.  A  trying  time,  Garth, 
I  can  tell  you ;  of  course,  it  all  fell  on  my 
shoulders,  and,  by  George ! "  shaking  bis 
bead  with  a  sad  smile,  "  I  don't  know  what 
they'd  have  done  without  me.  But,  of 
course,  I'd  willingly  have  done  ten  times  as 
much;  for  John — well,  frankly,  my  dear 
Garth,  John  idolized  me  up  to  the  day  of 
his  death ;  and,  not  only  that,  he  assisted 
me  materially  at  a  critical  moment  of  my 
affairs.  Poor  John !  his  whole  immense 
fortune  went  almost  immediately  after- 
ward." 

"  And  he  died  in  consequence  ?  " 

"  In  consequence  ?  no,  no,  no — no !  " 
said  Uncle  Goligbtley,  adjusting  his  glasses. 


"  Heart-disease — not  heart-breaking ;  no, 
no!" 

"  So  you  brought  his  widow  and  Miss 
Golightley  to  America?" 

"  H'm ;  yes.  But  you  say  you  have  been 
abroad,"  returned  the  elder  man,  shaking 
off  an  apparent  tendency  to  preoccupation. 
Tell  me  all  about  it — what,  how,  and  why ; 
that's  a  good  fellow !  " 

"  It  isn't  much  of  a  story.  After  my 
mother  died  I  left  college  and  took  a  draw- 
ing-master. Then  I  went  to  Europe  with  a 
chum  of  mine,  Selwyn.  Staid  there  till  a 
year  ago.  Now  I  have  my  old  garret-studio. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  show  it  you." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  his  companion,  ab- 
sently; "yes;  thanks,  thanks." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  li- 
chened  rock  on  the  border  of  the  pine-grove, 
where  Garth  had  found  the  violet  some 
hours  earlier.  Elinor,  walking  close  by  the 
rock,  saw  the  green  leaves  at  its  base,  and 
stooped  to  search  among  them.  Garth 
turned  aside  and  joined  her. 

"  I  plucked  the  last  one  this  morning," 
said  he ;  "  here  it  is  in  my  hat-band.  It 
isn't  quite  faded.  Will  you  take  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  thank  you!  "  she  said,  looking  up 
at  him  with  the  first  smile  she  had  vouch- 
safed that  day.  She  took  the  drooping 
flower  from  the  artist's  fingers,  smelt  it,  and 
then  fastened  it  carefully  in  the  bosom  of 
her  dress.  They  walked  on  together,  saying 
nothing.  Garth  was  rather  surprised  at 
what  he  had  done  ;  for  he  had  plucked  the 
violet  in  ignorance  of  Miss  Elinor  Golight- 
ley's  existence,  and  with  the  intention  of  pre- 
senting it  to  a  very  different  person. 

Meanwhile  Uncle  Golightley  was  out 
of  sight  round  a  bend  of  the  path  ;  but  soon 
voices  were  beard,  and  Garth  and  Elinor, 
coming  up,  found  him  in  affable  converse 
with  a  very  beautiful  young  woman  in  a 
scarlet  jacket  and  an  oddly-shaped  straw 
hat. 

"Your  cousin — Miss  Danvers,"  said  Eli- 
nor, quickly. 

Garth  answered  slowly :  "  I  had  forgotten 
her;  or,  rather,  I  thought  she  had  forgotten 
me." 


GARTH. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

A    QUESTION   OF   PRIVILEGE. 

"An!  Garth,"  cried  Uncle  Golightley, 
glancing  at  his  nephew  with  airy  playful- 
ness, "you  see  Miss  Margaret  and  I  have 
found  each  other  out  without  your  help 
— haven't  we,  Margaret? — By  George!  you 
rogue,"  laughingly  tapping  Garth's  shoulder 
with  his  whip,  "no  wonder  you  stick  to 
your  woods  if  this  is  the  sort  of  flower  that 
grows  there!" 

Garth  seemed  at  first  inclined  to  take 
this  badinage  rather  sombrely ;  but  Madge 
wore  to-day  her  loveliest  aspect,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  see  her  without  delight.  She 
was  about  Elinor's  height,  and  her  lightsome, 
roundly-moulded  figure  expressed  vigor  as 
well  as  grace.  Her  attire  was  piquant  and 
original — quite  at  variance  with  the  fashion, 
but  artfully  enhancing  the  beauties  of  the 
wearer's  face  and  form.  Her  quilted  satin 
petticoat  was  short  enough  to  reveal  a  pair 
of  slim,  arched  feet,  and  its  blackness  con- 
trasted brightly  with  the  red  stockings.  The 
light-colored  over-skirt  was  gathered  up  and 
puffed  out  at  the  sides,  and  open  down  the 
front  of  the  body;  the  sleeves  were  tight 
above  the  elbow  and  fell  open  below  it. 
There  was  a  Y-shaped  glimpse  of  a  lovely 
neck,  partly  concealed  by  the  sleeves  of 
the  scarlet  jacket,  which  were  tied  loosely 
round  the  throat.  The  straw  hat,  courtesying 
quaintly  downward  over  her  smooth  brow, 
completed  the  costume.  Perhaps  the  influ- 
ence of  her  artist  lover  had  increased  the 
girl's  natural  tendency  to  be  picturesque ; 
but  few  young  women  could  have  indulged 
in  her  solecisms  either  of  dress  or  behav- 
ior, without  making  themselves  ridiculous. 
Madge  was  privileged  by  dint  of  her  genuine 
originality  and  fascination. 

She  was  a  brunette ;  and  her  beauty,  great 
though  it  was,  was  intensified  by  the  ex- 
traordinary vividness  and  mobility  of  her 
expression.  Her  dark  eyes  were  of  a  long 
oval  shape,  and  she  seemed  able  to  see  all 
round  herself  without  turning  her  head. 
Her  face,  without  noticeable  movement, 
could  indicate  a  thousand  subtile  shades  of 
meaning.  Her  manner  one  moment  effer- 


vesced with  gay  audacity;  anon  it  would 
become  demurely  undemonstrative ;  and  yet 
again  it  would  be  graced  by  innumerable 
winning  flatteries  and  caresses.  A  slight 
Frenchy  flavor  was  still  perceptible  in  all 
she  said  and  did,  and  perhaps  this,  and  an 
occasional  touch  of  naive  rusticity,  aided  her 
escape  from  ordinary  standards  of  criticism. 
But  she  had  few  detractors  now,  the  villa- 
gers had  come  round  to  Parson  Graeme's 
opinion — that  her  mere  charm  was  her  suf- 
ficient excuse  for  being.  Madge  Danvers 
grew  not  on  every  tree  ! 

u  Mrs.  Tenterden  came  to  see  mother,'' 
said  this  lovely  creature,  addressing  Garth 
a  little  shyly  in  the  presence  of  his  new 
friends,  and  at  the  same  time  half  meeting 
Elinor's  point-blank  glance  with  a  timid 
smile.  "  We've  been  showing  her  the  rooms, 
and  she's  been  saying  which  she  would  have. 
— And  she  says  she'll  come  to  us  if  Miss  Go- 
lightley did  not  object,"  continued  Madge, 
now  turning  more  directly  to  Elinor,  with  a 
prettily  apologetic  air. 

"And  leaves  me  altogether  out  of  the 
question,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Golightley,  hu- 
morously counterfeiting  indignation.  "Ah, 
that's  the  way  you  women  treat  gray -haired 
old  boys  like  me ! — Well,  Garth,  you're  a 
man  and  a  nephew,  you  won't  refuse  a  roof 
to  your  old  uncle,  will  you  1 " 

"It  would  be  strange  if  you  went  any- 
where else,"  returned  the  young  man,  cor- 
dially. "I  expect  a  great  deal  of  benefit, 
too,  from  your  criticism  and  suggestions. 
Though,  I  tell  you  fairly,  I  have  an  opinion 
of  my  own  on  some  things." 

"Thanks — double  thanks,  my  dear  neph- 
ew," cried  Uncle  Golightley,  laughing  and 
turning  his  eyes  from  Garth  to  Elinor,  and 
from  her  to  Madge.  "  I  should  have  had  no 
peace  of  mind,  you  know,  lodging  in  the 
same  house  with  two  such  incomparable 
ladies  fair.  Even  Urmhurst  may  not  put 
me  far  enough  out  of  the  reach  of  temp- 
tation?" 

Madge's  mischievous  dark  eyes  sparkled 
at  this  gallantry,  though  she  kept  her  face 
otherwise  demure.  Elinor  turned  her  head 
aside  with  a  slightly  contemptuous  move- 
ment of  the  upper  lip,  which  Garth,  who 
happened  to  be  looking  at  her,  was  glad  to 


A   QUESTION  OF  PRIVILEGE. 


see  ;  for  he  thought  his  uncle's  sally  was  in 
rather  poor  taste. 

"  How  soon  can  we  come  to  you,  Miss 
Danver  ?  "  Elinor  asked,  abruptly. 

"  Oh,  you  will  come,  then  ?  "  cried  Madge, 
eagerly.  "  I'm  so  glad.  OL,  to-day,  if  you 
like." 

"  Well,  I  do  like,"  replied  Elinor,  smiling 
a  little. 

Madge  pressed  her  hands  quickly  to- 
gether, with  an  exclamation  of  pleasure. 
Elinor's  mouth  softened  st;ill  more,  as  she 
continued  : 

"  Bat  I  should  ask  you,  first,  whether 
you  or  your  mother  will  be  disturbed  by  my 
music  ?  I  play  on  the  violin." 

"The  violin!  "  exclaimed  Madge,  in  un- 
affected surprise  ;  "  oh,  how  —  delightful ! 
Why,  I  thought  only  meu  played  on  the 
violin !  " 

They  all  smiled  at  this,  and  Uncle  Go- 
lightley  said :  "  Ah,  my  dear  child,  you'll 
see  the  world  some  day,  if  I'm  not  much 
mistaken,  and  then  you'll  find  out  that  you 
women  are  robbing  us  of  our  masculine  pre- 
rogatives, one  after  another.'' 

"  I  was  expecting  you  earlier,"  Garth 
remarked  to  Madge. 

"  I  was  busy,  you  know,"  she  answered, 
stepping  close  to  him  and  twisting  a  button 
of  his  coat  while  she  spoke.  "  Then  Mrs. 
Tenterden  said  that  Miss  Golightley  and — 
and  Uncle  Golightley,"  with  a  sidelong 
glance  at  that  gentleman,  "had  gone  to  the 
lake  ;  and  I  thought  that  if  you  all  met,  and 
you  wanted  to  take  your  uncle  to  Urm- 
hurst,  I  might  show  Miss  Golightley  the  way 
to  our  house.  So  I  came." 

"  Thank  you — that  is  just  what  I  want- 
ed," said  Elinor.  "  Shall  we  go  no\v  ? " 

Madge  went  up  to  the  reserved  young 
lady,  took  her  by  the  hand  as  a  child  might 
have  done,  and  said,  "  Come!  " 

Elinor  had  a  momentary  impulse  to  draw 
her  hand  back ;  but  Madge's  clasp  was  so 
soft  and  winning,  and  her  eyes  so  soft  and 
ingenuous,  as  not  to  be  resisted.  With  a 
blush,  therefore,  and  a  corresponding  relent- 
ing in  her  whole  manner,  she  yielded. 

Hereupon  Uncle  Golightley  put  his  arm 
through  Garth's,  and  affected  to  hurry  off 
with  him  in  despair. 


"  Let's  get  away  i  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
own  myself  beaten.  That  Margaret  of  yours 
has  won  over,  in  four  minutes,  the  woman 
who's  been  intractable  to  me  almost  as  many 
years!  Witchcraft,  by  George  !  the  witchery 
of  a  woman !  " 

But  Garth  was  again  unresponsive ;  the 
episode  had  touched  him  differently.  He 
did  not  altogether  like  to  see  Elinor  Go- 
lightley's  reserve  overborne,  even  by  his 
own  Madge. 

The  party  were  now  at  the  fork  of  the 
path,  one  branch  of  which  led  to  Urmhurst, 
the  other  to  the  village.  Golightley  faced 
round  toward  the  two  young  ladies,  and 
lifted  his  hat  in  picturesque  salute. 

"Addio,  fair  lassies!  we  part  friends. 
A  riveder-le !  as  the  Florentines  say."  He 
stepped  in  front  of  them,  and  flowed  on  in 
his  easy  tones:  "Elinor,  tell  mamma  I'll  be 
with  her  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  to 
oversee  the  moving. — Margaret,  you  won't 
mind  if  an  elderly,  respectable  Uncle  Go- 
lightley .  .  .  eh?"  he  bent  forward  and 
kissed  her  cheek. 

She  screamed  "  Oh !  "  and  clung  to  El- 
inor's hand  as  if  for  protection.  Golightley, 
however,  did  not  read  displeasure  in  her 
laughing  eye;  although  Garth  (who  had  his 
perversities,  and  was  feeling  rather  fierce  at 
such  free  behavior)  was  partly  appeased  by 
a  lightning  glance  of  comic  repugnance, 
which  she  somehow  or  other  contrived  to 
dispatch  in  his  direction  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. Thus,  in  a  very  awkward  predica- 
ment, Madge's  nimble  tact  and  self-posses- 
sion recommended  her  to  each  of  three  very 
dissimilar  persons.  An  ordinary  woman 
would  have  offended  them  all,  and  made 
herself  ridiculous  into  the  bargain. 

In  thinking  over  this  incident,  Garth  was 
puzzled  to  account  for  his  own  mental  atti- 
tude. Instead  of  sympathetic  indignation 
at  maiden  sanctities  invaded  (as  just  before 
with  far  slighter  cause  in  Elinor's  behalf), 
he  had  felt  only  anger  at  the  infringement 
of  his  own  rights.  Yet,  Madge,  to  his  best 
knowledge  and  belief,  was  pure  and  modest 
as  Elinor  or  any  other  woman  could  be. 
Was  it  possible,  then,  that  she  might,  with- 
out detriment  or  dishonor,  allow  liberties 
which  Elinor  could  not  modestly  have  tol- 


90 


GARTH. 


erated?  And,  if  so,  did  it  follow  that  Eli- 
nor's was  the  higher  nature  ?  or  was  Madge's 
the  fuller  and  more  comprehensive,  able  to 
think  and  do  things  which  the  colder  and 
narrower  temperament  must  abjure?  So 
Garth  would  fain  believe. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CHAKACTEEISTICS. 

MEANWHILE  he  and  his  uncle  were  jog- 
ging along  the  wood-path  together  with 
every  appearance  of  amity,  the  two  young 
women  having  turned  off  villageward.  Go- 
lightley,  after  informing  himself  as  to  the 
present  condition  of  Urmhurst  and  the 
neighborhood,  began  to  talk  about  himself 
in  a  manner  which  Garth,  despite  his  irrita- 
tion, could  not  but  feel  was  humorous  and 
entertaining.  It  would  appear  that  his  com- 
panion had  lived  a  life  of  no  ordinary  scope 
and  distinction.  His  creed  smacked  of  the 
companionship  of  gods :  he  knew  them  all 
and  called  them  by  their  first  names,  often 
preceded  by  a  pungent  descriptive  epithet. 
He  knew  the  politics  of  Europe,  and  his 
counsel  had  given  wealth  to  a  Rothschild,  or 
saved  the  kingdom  of  a  monarch.  Many  a 
famous  name  in  art  and  literature  had  he 
helped  to  its  renown.  He  touched  lightly, 
though  ever  with  an  air  of  authority,  upon 
ffisthetic  topics.  Culture  was  his  divinityj 
he  her  high-priest.  Beneath  his  unruffled 
shirt-front  abode  in  harmony  the  souls  of 
artist,  author,  sculptor,  scholar,  and  epicure. 
In  sober  earnest,  Golightley  Urmson  was  a 
clever  and  even  brilliant  man,  of  observation 
wide  and  hungry,  if  not  always  accurate ; 
shrewd  and  not  without  tact ;  hard  to  em- 
barrass or  put  down.  His  style  of  narra- 
tion, when  he  was  in  the  vein,  was  engag- 
ing even  when  it  moved  the  listener  to  smile 
a  little.  He  loved  approbation,  and  when  he 
thought  himself  believed  in  he  overflowed 
with  an  airy  kind  of  good-fellowship.  He 
manifestly,  and  not  unjustly,  prided  himself 
upon  his  astuteness  and  insight;  yet  a  person 
of  less  ability,  who  had  been  acquainted  with 
his  foibles,  might  easily  have  mocked  him 
to  his  unconscious  face.  Self-centred  men 


too  seldom  take  the  precaution  to  look  at 
themselves  from  an  outside  point  of  view ; 
and  can  be  skeptical  about  anything  except 
the  sincerity  of  their  companions'  homage. 

By-and-by  some  peculiar  feature  of  the 
landscape  forced  itself  on  Uncle  Golightley 's 
attention,  and  led  him  to  speak  of  his  earlier 
days. 

"I  never  could  decide,  Garth,"  he  re- 
marked in  his  languid,  superior,  enlightened 
way,  drawing  his  hand  down  over  his  face 
with  a  slow,  self-admiring  gesture — "  I  never 
could  quite  make  up  my  mind  what  place  in 
the  world  was  worthiest  for  me  to  fill.  My 
father,  dear  good  man  that  he  was,  wanted 
me  to  go  into  business.  No  doubt  I  had  busi- 
ness talents — splendid  ones;  but  I  shrank, 
you  know — recoiled  from  the  idea  of  bind- 
ing myself  up  for  life  in  a  ledger  !  Money 
making,  in  the  gross  sense,  was  always  hate- 
ful to  me.  What  I  craved,  as  I  tell  you, 
was  education — culture !  Well,  I  had,  at 
one  time,  a  passion  for  college ;  but,  when  I 
came  to  look  into  it,  I  saw  it  was  not  for 
me.  I  was  a  natural,  a  born  scholar ;  but  I 
demanded  first  of  all  freedom,  expansion  !  I 
remember  writing  to  the  President  of  Har- 
vard, and  putting  it  to  him  whether  that 
place  deserved  the  name  of  university  where 
each  student  might  not  study  in  his  own 
way  and  at  his  own  leisure.  But  he  was 
too  narrow  to  see  the  thing  as  I  saw  it,  and 
I  was  obliged  to  give  it  up !  I  saw  then 
that. I  must  seek  in  the  grand  university  of 
the  world  all  that  our  pygmy  institutions 
could  not  furnish.  "Well,  I  went  to  Europe. 
There  were  some  painful  episodes  connected 
with  my  departure.  My  dear  father  was — 
yes,  Garth,  why  shouldn't  you  hear  it  ? — lie 
was  unjust,  cruelly  unjust  to  me.  Yet  I 
never  gave  him  cause  for  anger.  Ah,  well, 
it's  over  now,  forgiven  if  not  forgotten. 
But,  by  George!  I've  suffered!  " 

"  But  you're  glad  to  be  at  home  again  ? '' 

Golightiey  took  off  his  hat  and  passed  his 
fingers  wearily  through  his  hair.  "  No  one 
can  have  stronger  home-instincts  than  I 
have,"  said  he  ;  "  none  could  look  forward 
more  yearningly  to  the  rest  and  peace  that 
only  home  can  bring.  But  a  man  who  has  lived 
as  I  have  lived  can  seldom  feel  what  you  young 
people  call  gladness.  There's  too  much  bitter 


CHARACTERISTICS: 


91 


knowledge — too  much —  But  what  am  I 
about !  "  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  altering  his 
dejected  tone,  "piling  the  weight  of  my 
hypochondriacal  philosophy  on  your  young 
shoulders.  Glad  to  get  home  ?  Yes,  and  I 
mean  to  stay  here !  " 

"  And  the  ladies  too  ?  " 

"  Now,  old  fellow,"  laughed  Golightley, 
"  not  too  much  concern  about  my  ladies,  if 
you  please!  Great  God!  if  your  native 
ladies  aren't  enough  for  you,  you  are  hard 
to  satisfy.  However,  I'll  tell  you  something 
about  them.  I  met  John  Tenterden — crude, 
good-hearted,  thick-bodied,  old  millionaire 
— in  Germany.  Got  acquainted  quite  by  ac- 
cident, you  know.  A  good  old  fellow,  but 
no  culture — oh,  not  a  vestige  of  it,  Garth!  " 

"Has  Mrs.  Tenterden  got  any?  " 

"  Mildred — ah,  Mildred  is  a  fine  woman ! 
Naturally  clever;  Southern  bred,  and  has 
her  eccentricities,  her  little  ruggednesses  of 
speech  and  manner.  Lovely  to  talk  with, 
though,  she  has  so  much  information." 

"  She  is  not  a  young  woman? 

"  Oh,  Mildred  is  all  of  sixty,  perhaps 
sixty-live.  •  She  and  Cuthbert  must  be  about 
of  an  age.  But  she  don't  look  it ;  dark  hair 
and  eyes,  erect,  full  bust,  fine  figure  of  a 
woman!  But  you  should  have  seen  her  as- 
tonishment when  I  claimed  her  as  my  sister! 
Till  that  moment  she  had  supposed  that  her 
mother  and  mine  had  met  her  death  by  ac- 
cident or  violence  in  the  latter  part  of  1803. 
She  had  come  North  in  that  year,  you  know, 
to  find  Captain  Brian,  and  had  so  contrived 
her  flight  as  to  lead  to  the  belief  that  she'd 
been  killed." 

"  Father  told  me  that  she  had  been  in 
love  with  my  grandfather  long  before  ;  and 
had  afterward  married  her  cousin  in  the  be- 
lief that  he  was  dead.  It's  a  strange  story. 
Such  constancy  seems  unnatural." 

"A  woman  with  a  crotchet  in  her  head 
is  an  unaccountable  being,"  said  Golightley, 
trimming  his  mustache.  "  Well,  Mildred 
was  about  seventeen,  and  just  married,  when 
her  mother  disappeared.  By-the-by,  Mil- 
dred's marriage  will  show  you  the  sort  of 
woman  she  is.  She  wouldn't  have  John, 
though  he'd  offered  himself  half  a  dozen 
times,  until  one  day  he  lost  every  penny 
he  had  in  the  world.  Then  what  did  she 


do  but  offer  herself  and  her  fortune  to 
hwf? 

"  Very  good  of  her." 

"  Oh,  she's  a  darling!  But  I  was  going 
to  tell  you  about  Elinor.  They'd  come 
abroad  chiefly  to  educate  her.  And  by 
George  !  Garth,  there  never  was  a  girl  better 
educated,  or  with  finer  natural  abilities,  or 
who  said  less  about  them,  than  Elinor  Go- 
lightley!" 

"  She  looks  rather  cynical — " 

"Ah!  that  kind  of  woman,,  that  fine, 
sensitive  organization,  is  so  seldom  at  peace 
with  itself.  Until  she  met  me  she'd  never 
known  a  human  being  who  really  understood 
her.  Then,  losing  her  father  and  mother 
just  when  she  was  becoming  most  passion- 
ately attached  to  them,  you  know,  and  com- 
ing among  strangers,  uncongenial  in  spite  of 
their  kindness;  then,  again,  having  no  de- 
sire ungratified  except  the  all-important  de- 
sire for  some  being  worthy  of  her  love  and 
able  intelligently  to  sympathize  with  her — I 
tell  you,  I  only  wonder  she  isn't  a  greater 
cynic  than  she  is.  But  under  my  influence 
she  was  losing  all  that,  when  poor  John's 
death  put  her  back  a  little  temporarily." 

"  Music  is  her  resource,  I  suppose? " 

"  Why,  that  voice  of  hers,  my  dear 
Garth,"  said  Golightley  in  a  confidential  un- 
dertone—  "that  voice  is  simply — unique! 
Some  of  the  first  masters  have  told  me  that 
it  is,  in  some  respects,  superior  to  anything 
else  off  the  stage  or  on  it.  They  were  all 
wild  about  her,  and  there  was  one  fellow  in 
Dresden  whom  I  thought  I  should  have 
trouble  with.  He  taught  her  for  three 
months,  and  worshiped  the  very  ground  she 
walked  on.  One  day  he  burst  into  the  par- 
lor where  John  and  Mildred  and  I  were  sit- 
ting, and  burst  into  tears.  He  said  the 
thought  of  that  voice  being  lost  to  the  world 
was  breaking  his  heart;  and  what  was  more, 
that  he  adored  her,  and  would  follow  her 
round  the  world  till  she  agreed  to  marry 
him  !  By  George  !  you  ought  to  have  seen 
Mildred.  She  drew  herself  up  like  a  regi- 
ment of  cavalry.  '  My  good  gracious  alive, 
John !  is  the  man  mad  ? '  Just  then  in  came 
Elinor.  She  walked  up  to  the  writing-table 
with  an  air  as  if  she  owned  mankind,  and  a 
devilish  cold,  sarcastic  expression  about  the 


92 


GARTH. 


eyes  and  mouth.  '  Come  here,  Herr  Skaiier,' 
says  she.  Down  the  poor  devil  plumps  upon 
his  knees,  not  knowing  what  was  coming. 
She  took  out  her  purse.  '  Our  month  is  not 
quite  up,  Herr  Skaiier,  but  I'll  pay  you  now, 
if  you  please.  Count  that  and  see  if  it's 
right,  and  then  sign  your  name  here ; '  and 
she  dipped  a  pen  in  ink  and  held  it  to  him. 
By  George !  Garth,  I  turned  pale — I  turned 
pale !  Well,  that's  the  sort  of  woman  she 
is!" 

"  Quite  unlike  Mrs.  Tenterden." 

"  Ha !  ha !  and  only  eighteen  at  the  time, 
too.  But  she's  a  'captain,'  as  Mildred  would 
say.  However,  most  people  fall  in  love  with 
Mildred  before  they  do  with  Elinor.  Well, 
she  set  her  foot  down  that  she'd  have  no 
more  singing-masters ;  she'd  been  fond  of 
the  violin  before,  and  from  that  time  she 
took  to  it  altogether;  and  to-day  she's  as 
supreme  with  that  as  she  used  to  be  with 
her  voice.  I  tell  you,  Garth,  she  has  but  to 
say  the  word,  and  she  might  command  a  for- 
tune from  any  director  in  Europe !  " 

Garth  shook  his  head ;  the  idea  of  Elinor 
on  the  public  stage  was  repugnant  to  him. 

"  Of  course,  such  a  thing  isn't  to  be 
thought  of,"  resumed  Golightley  ;  "  though 
she'd  be  as  safe  there,  with  that  devilish  cold 
eye  of  hers,  as  in  her  own  boudoir.  But 
oh,"  caressing  his  cheek,  "  we  hope  she's  re- 
served for  a  happier,  tenderer  destiny  than 
that!" 

Garth  drew  his  eyebrows  slowly  together ; 
then,  to  change  the  subject,  made  some  in. 
quiry  as  to  Mr.  Tenterden's  late  loss  of  for- 
tune. 

"  There  was  a  mystery  about  that,"  re- 
plied his  uncle,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  No- 
body seemed  to  know  what  became  of  the 
money.  John  had  asked  me,  some  time  be- 
fore, to  take  charge  of  the  estate  for  him.  I 
told  him  I  couldn't  accept  the  responsibility. 
He  said  his  former  agent  had  died,  and  that 
he  himself  knew  no  more  about  business  than 
a  child  (which  was  true  enough) ;  and  he 
implored  me  to  advise  him  as  a  friend,  or  if 
not  that,  then  as  Mildred's  brother,  since  all 
the  money  really  belonged  to  her.  I  was  the 
more  grieved  to  refuse,  because  I  knew  how 
much  I  might  have  done  for  him.  Why, 
Garth,  I  remember  standing  in  1844  on  the 


floor  of  the  House  of  Commons  talking  with 
William  Ewart  Gladstone — one  of  the  great- 
est financial  geniuses  that  ever  lived.  I'd 
been  dropping  some  hints  about  the  forth- 
coming budget,  and  William  was  so  startled 
by  my  insight  into  the  thing  that  he  turned 
to  me  and  said,  '  Mr.  Urmson,  if  you  were 
a  member  of  this  House  we  might  look  for- 
ward to  the  financial  future  of  the  country 
with  confidence !  '  But  as  I  was  saying,  just 
before  John's  disaster  came  about,  a  rather 
curious  thing  happened,  which  I  was  glad  of 
on  his  account  as  well  as  my  own. — Ah ! 
what's  that  on  the  hill  ?  is  that  our  old  Urm- 
hurst  ? " 

They  had  emerged  from  the  woods,  and 
there  stood  the  venerable  mansion,  dark, 
solid,  and  square,  against  the  sky,  moored 
between  its  mighty  chimneys ;  the  many- 
paned  windows  glanced  blue,  while  the 
dense  oak-foliage  of  the  porch  wore  a  sul- 
len crimson  color.  The  projecting  eaves 
and  gabled  dormers  cast  their  shadows 
downward  beneath  the  mid-day  sun.  Uncle 
Golightley  made  a  long  pause. 

"  Where  is  your  studio,  Garth  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  In  the  northeast  corner  of  the  garret." 

"  In  the  garret — the  old  garret !  Do  you 
know,  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  time  in  that 
garret,  when  I  was  a  boy.  Pulling  over 
musty  old  papers ;  I  don't  suppose  there 
was  a  single  document  that  I  didn't  exam- 
ine." 

"  Did  you  expect  to  find  some  ancient 
deed  of  land,  or  forgotten  will  ? " 

"  Ha !  ha !  Well,  I  dare  say  I  was  ro- 
mantic enough  for  that.  Odd,  if  you  and  I 
had  both  found  our  fortunes  in  that  old  gar- 
ret— I  with  my  documents,  and  you  with 
your  canvases.  Tell  me,  Garth,  you  have 
good  eyes,  who  is  standing  under  the 
porch  ? " 

"  That's  our  old  cook,  Nikomis." 

"Nikomis!  an  Indian  name.  Who  is 
she  ? " 

"  No  one  knows  much  about  her.  She 
has  lived  with  us  more  than  ten  years.  I 
have  taken  her  portrait ;  she's  a  picturesque 
old  savage." 

"  How  our  forefathers  would  have  stared 
to  hear  that  an  Indian  would  one  day  be 


THE   FIRESIDE. 


93 


domiciled  at  Urmlmrst !  Does  the  old  lady 
know  whose  bones  underlie  that  stone  she's 
standing  on  ? " 

"  She  often  looks  grim  enough  to  be  the 
incarnation  of  their  revenge,"  said  Garth, 
smiling.  "  I'll  christen  my  portrait  '  Our 
Fury ! ' " 

A  silvery-haired  figure  at  this  moment 
turned  the  corner  of  the  house,  walking 
slowly,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  and  a 
slight  stoop  in  the  shoulders.  Golightley 
caught  Garth  by  the  arm.  "  Can  that  be 
.Cuthbert  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Good  God !  is 
that  white-headed  old  man  Cuthbert  Urm- 
•son  ? " 

"Is  ho  so  old?"  asked  Garth,  falter- 
ingly. 

"Good  God!"  repeated  Golightley, 
snatching  off  his  tinted  glasses,  and  thereby 
revealing  a  peculiar  cast  in  one  of  his  eyes  ; 
"  my  poor  brother  Cuthbert !  Garth  .  .  . 
what  do  you  think  he'll  say  to  me  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE   FIRESIDE. 

AT  Urmhurst,  that  night,  there  was  an 
unusual  scene.  It  had  fallen  suddenly  cold 
after  sunset,  and  the  mighty  kitchen-hearth 
had  been  cleared  of  the  movable  iron  stove, 
kept  to  facilitate  cooking  operations,  and  the 
first  great  fire  of  the  season  had  been  kin- 
dled upon  it.  The  rude  stump  of  a  hemlock- 
tree  nearly  sis  feet  in  girth,  was  brought  in 
by  Garth  on  a  wheelbarrow,  and  cunningly 
built  into  place  with  a  substructure  and 
abattis  of  smaller  logs,  dry  branches,  brush- 
wood, and  shavings,  and  the  whole  set  go- 
•ing  by  a  skillfully-applied  match.  With 
much  crackling  and  whispering  the  flames 
fastened  hastily  to  their  work,  climbing  from 
the  smaller  to  the  larger  sticks  with  ever- 
increasing  power  and  relish,  until  the  under- 
side of  the  hemlock  itself  began  to  flush 
red-hot  from  the  multitudinous  soft  lapping 
of  the  fiery  tongues,  which  corroded  while 
seeming  to  caress.  Anon  came  sharp,  dry 
detonations,  and  a  bubbling  and  stewing  of 
sap  from  the  ends  of  the  huge  stump ;  the 


welded  smoke  and  flame  hurtled  upward, 
and  the  spacious  fireplace  radiated  such  an 
abundance  of  heat  that  only  one  or  two  of 
the  seven  persons  sitting  round  about  could 
endure  to  face  it  steadily. 

But  love  of  a  noble  fire  is  so  deep  and 
universal  in  the  human  heart  that  it  must 
correspond  to  some  essential  human  quality. 
There  is  no  better  company,  for  it  talks  to 
each  one  in  the  language  he  loves  best — 
helps  the  wit  to  be  brilliant,  and  the  silent 
man  to  hold  his  tongue  with  a  good  grace  ; 
is  as  fitting  to  a  savage's  cave  as  to  an  em- 
peror's palace,  and  can  never  be  in  bad  taste 
or  out  of  fashion.  It  roars,  and  frolics,  and 
devours,  and  tosses  daringly  aloft  into  the 
blackness  of  the  chimney,  even  as  the  vital 
principle  of  existence  flouts  the  hollowness 
of  death.  It  humors  our  joy  or  sadness,  but 
creates  neither,  being  mere  life  without  heart 
or  soul ;  perhaps  it  suits  best  with  that  pen- 
sive mood  which  is  often  nearer  to  enjoy- 
ment than  enjoyment  itself. 

The  Urmhurst  fireplace,  with  its  room- 
like  breadth  and  depth,  must  have  been 
large,  even  for  the  age  in  which  it  was 
built.  Standing  within  it,  on  a  clear  after- 
noon, and  looking  upward  through  the  shaft 
of  the  chimney,  stars  could  be  discerned  in 
the  oblong  patch  of  sky  above.  There  was 
no  mantel-piece,  but,  instead,  a  great  hemi- 
spherical canopy  of  stonework  projected  out- 
ward, like  a  supplementary  sort  of  roof;  and 
there  was  some  ornamentation  in  the  way 
of  old,  smoke-darkened  Dutch  tiles,  inlaid 
here  and  there,  and,  within  the  recess,  half 
a  dozen  sooty  iron  hooks  and  festooned 
chains  recalled  the  primitive  methods  of 
cookery. 

The  fireplace  was  built  of  brick,  all  but 
the  hearthstone,  a  roughly-hewed  piece  of 
granite,  its  inequalities  polished  by  the  shuf- 
fling feet  of  full  seven  generations  of  Urm- 
hurst cooks.  As  for  the  kitchen  itself,  it  was 
large  and  lofty,  and  darksomely  picturesque; 
wainscoted  breast-high  with  black  oak,  and 
traversed  as  to  the  ceiling  by  two  gigantic 
beams  made  out  of  irregularly-squared  trunks 
of  oak-trees,  gradually  narrowing  in  breadth 
from  one  end  to  the  other.  The  half  of  the 
floor  adjoining  the  front  window  was  raised 
above  the  rest  by  a  step  some  six  inches  in 


GABTH. 


height ;  and  the  long,  massive  table,  whose 
legs  passed  through  the  planking  and  de- 
scended into  the  cellar  like  the  masts  of  a 
ship,  was  made  with  a  corresponding  joy 
half-way  down  its  length. 

Beyond  the  fireplace  a  narrow  passage- 
way led  to  the  hack  entrance  of  the  kitchen, 
passing  the  head  of  the  cellar-stairs  on  the 
right.  The  walls  were  diversified  with  shelves 
of  glistening  crockery,  and  here  and  there  a 
closet-door.  All  these  details,  however,  were 
but  indistinctly  discernible  in  the  gamboling 
firelight,  which,  indeed,  was  less  concerned 
in  giving  these  prominence  than  in  causing 
the  seven  shadows  of  those  who  sat  so  qui- 
etly around  the  hearth  to  dance  an  extrav- 
agant fandango — leaping  from  floor  to  ceil- 
ing, bobbing  and  beckoning  to  one  another 
like  grotesque  goblins,  and  darting  to  and 
fro  with  superhuman  agility ;  all  this  phan- 
tasmagoric melee  being  accompanied  by  a 
breathless  stillness  that  rendered  it  oddly 
impressive. 

"  Ah !  how  it  all  comes  back  to  me !  "  saul 
one  of  the  party  at  length ;  "  bless  you !  I 
used  to  make  just  such  fires  as  that,  when  I 
was  a  boy,  on  this  very  hearth.  Delightful 
— isn't  it,  Mildred? — this  primitive  flavor 
about  everything !  I  knew  you'd  enjoy  it." 

The  lady  addressed  had  been  leaning  back 
in  her  chair,  posed  in  a  stately,  luxurious 
attitude  that  seemed  natural  to  one  of  her 
statuesque  proportions.  She  laughed  good- 
naturedly,  and  answered,  smoothing  down 
her  black  dress  with  one  hand : 

"  Oh,  we  have  fires  and  fireplaces  like 
this  in  Virginia,  too :  I  dare  say  you  know, 
Mr.  Urmson  ?  This  is  splendid,  though,  I'm 
sure,  and  I  suppose  the  people  here  need 
great  fires  more  than  we  do,  the  winters  are 
so  cold." 

"But  she  never  saw  a  hearthstone  like 
this  in  Virginia — did  she,  Cuthbert?  Come, 
you're  our  historian,  tell  us  about  it !  It's  a 
component  part  of  New  Hampshire,  isn't 
it?" 

"  It  goes  down  through  the  cellar,  at  all 
events,"  said  Mr.  Urmson.  "When  the 
foundations  of  the  house  were  digging,  this 
great  bottomless  rock  seemed  very  much  in 
the  way,  and  the  faint-hearted  ones,  who 
were  terribly  afraid  of  the  ghost  of  the  dead 


Indian,  wanted  to  abandon  the  site  and  go 
elsewhere.  But  Captain  Neil  would  not, 
and  by  turning  the  plan  of  his  house  a  little 
more  to  the  southward,  he  brought  the  top 
of  the  rock  into  the  kitchen  fireplace.  Then 
he  reduced  it  to  the  proper  level  by  cutting 
a  thick  slice  off  it,  and  so  killed  three  birds 
with  one  stone ;  for  there  was  a  hearth 
ready  made,  and  as  for  the  slice,  it  served 
both  as  a  tombstone  to  keep  down  the  ghost, 
and  as  a  threshold  for  the  house.  But  Mrs. 
Tenterden  will  think  she  is  living  in  a  ghost- 
story  if  she  hears  any  more  Urmhurst  legends 
to-night,"  added  he,  looking  at  her  with  his 
keen,  grave  smile. 

"Oh,  mercy!"  exclaimed  Mrs  Tenter- 
den,  more  good-naturedly  than  ever,  "I'm 
sure  I  don't  mind  it  at  all." 

"It  was  good  enough  to  make  a  hearth- 
stone of  a  piece  of  the  solid  earth,"  observed 
a  low,  sober-toned  young  voice  from  Mr. 
Urmson's  right  hand. 

"  I  think  so  too,"  said  he,  turning  tow- 
ard her.  "It's  like  a  bond  between  the 
heart  of  the  house  and  the  heart  of  Nature. 
I  like  to  believe  that  to  the  end  of  time  this 
savage  old  rock  can  never  quite  forget  the 
years  it  spent  amid  us,  with  our  joys  and 
follies,  and  griefs  and  deaths.  Here  it  will 
stand  when  Urmhurst,  and  even  this  famous 
Yankee  nation  of  ours,  has  dissolved  into 
dust  and  vapor.  But  something  human  will 
have  melted  into  it,  and  that  is  better  than 
engraving  inscriptions  on  obelisks  for  stran- 
gers to  be  curious  about  five  thousand  years 
hence." 

"  Now,  Cuthbert,  lad,  do  you  tell  the 
stories,  and  leave  the  preaching  to  me — haw, 
haw! — it's  my  business — haw,  haw,  ho!  I 
don't  believe  this  good  lady  here,  nor  miss 
there  beside  you,  understands  how  a  bit  of 
granite  can  remember  folks,  any  better  than  I 
do !  and  I  was  ninety-five  last  birthday,  ma'am, 
so  that  needn't  trouble  you — eh  ?  ha,  ha !  " 

No  one  could  resist  the  hoary  geniality 
of  this  gruff-spoken  old  colossus,  who  seemed 
himself  more  ancient  than  the  rocky  womb 
of  the  land  that  bore  him. 

Mrs.  Tenterden  laughed  heartily,  and 
said,  ""Well,  I  suppose  I  am  a  pretty  stupid 
old  woman  about  such  things."  Mr.  Urm- 
son arched  his  eyebrows. 


THE  FIRESIDE. 


95 


"  The  parson,"  said  he,  "  is  even  more 
envious  than  stupid.  I  hope  he  may  live  to 
outgrow  it;  and  if  Miss  Golightley  had  not 
made  me  forget  myself  by  giving  me  a  text, 
I  should  not  have  provoked  him." 

"But  tell  me,  Uncle  Golightley,"  said 
Madge,  who  sat  between  him  and  Garth, 
"  is  it  certainly  true  that  the  Indian  is  buried 
under  the  threshold?  Has  nobody  ever 
looked  under  it,  to  see  ?  " 

"  People  who  look  under  gravestones," 
observed  Garth,  as  his  uncle  d.id  not  imme- 
diately reply,  "  are  apt  to  find  a  curse  buried 
there,  if  nothing  else." 

Besides  the  seven  persons  whose  shadows 
were  flickering  about  the  fire-lighted  kitchen, 
there  was  an  eighth  present — a  silent,  self- 
contained,  stoical  individual,  wrapped  in  a 
dark  shawl,  and  smoking  a  short  cutty  pipe. 
It  was  old  Nikomis,  the  cook,  who  had  sat 
and  smoked  thus  for  the  last  ten  years,  and 
who,  it  appeared,  was  not  to  be  frightened 
away  by  unusual  company.  She  was  so  far 
removed  within  the  chimney  corner  that, 
although  the  wrinkled  coppery  skin  of  her 
broad  grim  face  received  the  intensest  glow 
of  the  fire,  no  shadow  was  cast  into  the  room 
beyond.  She  sat  with  her  arms  folded,  and 
the  pipe  stuck  in  the  corner  of  her  mouth, 
and  from  pipe  and  mouth  alike  jets  of  smoke 
issued  at  stated  intervals ;  but  for  this  she 
might  have  been  a  statue  or  a  mummy, 
so  far  as  any  sign  of  life  was  concerned. 
Hitherto  she  had  neither  taken  part  in  the 
conversation,  nor  even  seemed  to  be  aware 
of  it.  But  at  Madge's  idle  question  she 
partly  turned,  and  pushing  aside  with  one 
dark  knotted  talon  the  swath  of  grayish- 
black  hair  which  hung  down  beside  her  face, 
fixed  her  narrow  black  eyes  upon  the  fresh 
and  lovely  girl. 

Garth,  sitting  between,  observed  these 
two  women  with  an  artist's  eye  for  contrast. 
While  marveling  at  the  breadth  of  a  human 
nature  which  could  include  two  such  diverse 
beings  under  one  category,  the  fantastic  no- 
tion occurred  to  him,  whether  any  imagina- 
ble freak  of  destiny  could  ever  cause  their 
several  thoughts  or  desires  to  run  for  one 
moment  in  the  same  channel.  Madge,  it  was 
true,  had  been  known  to  entrap  Nikomis 
into  something  like  conversation,  and  even 


to  effect  an  entry  to  the  old  Indian's  wig- 
wam in  the  garret,  which  was  closed  against 
every  one  else.  But  this  must  have  been 
due  rather  to  their  intense  dissimilarity, 
mental  and  spiritual  as  well  as  physical,  than 
to  any  direct  sympathy  between  them.  The 
notion  went  and  came  in  a  breath,  and  then 
Garth  made  his  rejoinder  to  Madge.  Ni- 
komis thereupon  gave  vent  to  a  guttural 
"  Ugh ! "  and,  turning  again  to  the  fire,  re- 
sumed her  impassive  smoking  as  before. 

"  The  old  lady  agrees  with  you,  Garth," 
remarked  his  father — for  Nikomis's  habit- 
ual silence  had  for  years  brought  her  to  be 
spoken  about  in  her  own  presence  as  if  she 
were  deaf  or  out  of  the  way — "  I  have  al- 
ways believed  that  the  murdered  warrior, 
as  well  as  the  old  original  sachem,  was  an 
ancestor  of  hers,  and  this  confirms  it." 

"My  good  fathers!  Mr.  Urmson,"  cried 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  with  an  accent  of  anxiety, 
"what — why — I  shouldn't  think  it  would 
be  safe !  at  least,"  she  added,  lowering  her 
voice  behind  her  fan,  "  the  Indians  down  in 
Virginia  are  perfectly  awful." 

"Oh!  Mildred,"  murmured  Golightley, 
letting  his  hand  fall  softly  upon  hers,  "  you 
are  simply  the  most  delicious  woman  in  the 
world  — isn't  she,  Cuthbert?  Oh,  it'll  be 
charming  to  watch  you  two." 

"Nikomis  stays  here,  Mrs.  Tenterden," 
said  Cuthbert,  entirely  unmoved,  "because 
the  place  belongs  to  her.  I  wish  to  atone 
for  the  wrong  my  forefathers  did  hers.  She 
is  a  lady,  and  appreciates  my  motive ;  and 
even  should  justice  require  my  scalp  at  her 
hands,  no  personal  feeling  would  be  engen- 
dered either  on  her  part  or  mine." 

The  idea  of  Mr.  Urmson  being  scalped 
by  his  cook  caused  Mrs.  Tenterden  to  fold 
her  statuesque  arms  with  a  shudder. 

"But  why  do  you  think  she  is  one  of 
those  Indians  instead  of  any  other  ? "  she 
asked. 

"It  saves  so  much  trouble.  .  If  I  be- 
lieved she  was  some  one  else,  how  could  I 
believe  I  was  repairing  my  ancestors'  mis- 
deeds ? " 

The  good-natured  attempt  which  Mrs. 
Tenterden  made  to  catch  the  drift  of  this 
remark  put  the  scalping  out  of  her  mind; 
and,  before  she  could  recur  to  it,  Golightley 


96 


GARTH. 


had  taken  up  the  conversation  at  the  point  ] 
where  Garth  had  left  it. 

"By-the-by,  Garth,"  he  began  affably, 
"aren't  you  laying  down  the  law  rather 
broadly  as  regards  that  matter  of  opening 
graves?  My  notion  was  that  an  old  tomb 
was  one  of  the  likeliest  of  places  for  stum- 
bling on  some  forgotten  treasure  in." 

"If  there's  a  fortune  under  our  doorstep, 
it  can't  be  meant  for  us,"  returned  the  young 
man.  "  We  should  probably  stumble  on 
some  proof  of  our  never  having  had  a  claim 
even  to  such  fortune  as  we  possess." 

"  Oh,  then  let  us  not  look !  "  exclaimed 
Madge,  with  a  naivete  that  drew  forth  a 
general  smile.  "Besides  —  there  are  the 
ghosts.  Are  there  any  ghosts  do  you  think, 
Miss  Elinor  ? " 

"It  seems  as  if  there  might  be  to-night," 
said  Elinor,  with  a  half-playful  apprehen- 
siveness  of  eyes  and  tone,  and  a  slight  ner- 
vous shrugging  of  the  shoulders. 

"Ghosts?  to  be  sure  there  are!"  af- 
firmed Uncle  Golightley.  "  I  wonder,  now, 
whether  I  ever  told  any  of  you  a  ghostly 
experience  of  my  own,  which  happened  to 
me  in  this  very  house,  when  I  was  a  mere 
boy — thirty  years  ago?  I  don't  believe  I 
ever  did.  Well,  now,  this  is  just  the  place' 
and  time  for  a  ghost  story — let  me  see  if  I 
can  remember  it!  " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
GOLIGHTLET'S    DOUBLE 

THERE  was  a  general  movement  of  atten- 
tion, and  Golightley  began : 

"  Yes — I  was  between  twelve  and  fifteen 
years  old  then.  Cuthbert,  you  were  away 
in  Europe  at  that  time,  and  I  was  living  here 
alone  with  the  captain,  and  being  about  as 
unhappy  as  I  knew  how  to  be,  I  suppose. 
I  was  much  in  the  garret,  partly  to  be  out 
of  the  way,  and  partly  because  I  enjoyed 
rummaging  over  the  old  chests  of  papers  — 
It's  curious,  as  I  was  remarking  to  you  this 
morning,  Garth,  what  an  attraction  that 
garret  has  had  for  our  family  one  way  or 
another." 

"  I  recollect  I  used  to  haunt  it  before  you 


were  born,"  remarked  Cuthbert ;  "  but  I 
never  saw  the  ghost." 

"  He  appeared  first  to  me,"  rejoined  Go- 
lightley, stroking  his  face ;  "  but  there's  no 
reason,  so  far  as  I  know,  why  he  should  not 
appear  hereafter  to  other  people.  Well, 
one  day — one  day,  Miss  Margaret,  with  your 
black  eyes — I  had  staid  in  this  garret  until 
near  dusk,  and  was  just  going  to  shut  up  the 
chest  and  depart,  when  my  eye  happened  to 
light  upon  a  document  folded  in  triangular 
shape,  which  I  couldn't  remember  having 
seen  before.  It  was  a  parchment,  very  worn 
along  the  folds,  and  crumpled  at  the  corners, 
and  discolored  in  several  places,  as  if  it  were 
either  very  old,  or  had  been  carried  about  a 
great  deal  in  somebody's  pocket.  I  took  it  to 
the  window — for  it  was  getting  pretty  dark, 
you  know — and  found  some  half -erased  writ- 
ing on  the  back — I  could  make  nothing  of 
that,  and  said  to  myself,  '  I'll  look  inside.' 
But,  on  trying  to  open  it,  I  found  it  was 
carefully  sealed  along  the  edges  with  seven 
wafers — four  blue  and  three  red  ones. 

"I  was  thinking  whether  or  not  it  would 
be  wrong  for  me  to  open  it,  when  all  at  once 
I  felt  there  was  some  one  in  the  garret  with 
me !  I  was  scared  for  a  minute :  I  was 
standing  with  my  face  to  the  window,  and 
the  idea  of  turning  round  was  disagreeable, 
I  can  tell  you!  However,  I  had  to  turn  at 
last,  and  sure  enough  there  was  somebody 
squatting  down  beside  the  chest  of  papers  I 
had  just  left. 

"  I  looked  at  him,  at  first,  only  in  sur- 
prise. There  was  not  much  light  to  see  him 
by,  and  he  had  his  back  toward  me,  still  I 
fancied  there  was  something  familiar  about 
him.  Gradually  I  noticed  that  he  appeared 
to  be  about  my  own  age  and  size ;  not  only 
that,  but  the  clothes  he  wore  were  just  like 
those  I  had  on.  His  hair — as  nearly  as  I 
could  make  out — was  about  as  long  as  mine, 
and  curled  in  the  same  way.  And,  by  George ! 
his  way  of  pulling  over  the  papers  and  hold- 
ing them  up  to  look  at  them,  was  so  like  my 
own  way,  that  I  could  hardly  believe  he  was 
not  me !  For  all  that,  there  was  something 
devilish  about  him,  as  if  some  evil  spirit  was 
amusing  himself  with  mimicking  me.  After 
I  got  over  my  surprise  a  little,  I  began  to  feel 
— not  frightened,  exactly,  but  indignant ! 


GOLIGHTLEY'S  DOUBLE. 


97 


•"I  didn't  move  or  say  anything,  but 
stood  watching  him ;  and,  though  it  grew 
darker,  I  saw  him  more  clearly  in  the  dark- 
ness than  in  the  light.  He  continued  pull- 
ing over  the  papers  and  peering  into  them, 
until  at  last  he  brought  out — what  do  you 
think  it  was,  Mildred  ?  " 

"  O  Golightley,  don't !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  with  one  of  her  shudders.  "  I 
declare  it's  awful!  " 

"As  soon  as  I  saw  it,  I  knew  1  had  to 
deal  with  nothing  human ;  and  another 
thing — I  became  immediately  conscious  of 
what  was  going  on  in  my  Doppelganger's 
mind,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  accurate 
to  say,  I  felt  his  mind  as  if  it  were  my  own, 
and  the  thoughts  he  had  seemed  to  be  my 
thoughts.  Though  1  saw  him,  and  knew 
that  I  was  something  distinct  from  him,  yet 
I  knew  that  I  was  possessed  by  him,  in  the 
same  sense  that  people  used  to  be  in  the 
witch-days.  And  though  I  felt,  so  far  as  I 
had  any  feeling  of  my  own  left,  that  he  was 
hideous  and  repulsive  to  the  last  degree, 
still  I  couldn't  help  sympathizing  with  him, 
and  looking  at  things  from  his  point  of  view, 
and  agreeing,  as  it  were,  to  everything  he 
proposed.  But  the  worst  of  it  was,  that  I 
knew  I  was  guilty  of  whatever  wickedness 
ho  might  meditate:  I  must  consent  to  his 
crimes,  and  that  was  the  same  as  to  commit 
them  myself.  lie  had  power  over  me !  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  down  on  your  knees, 
lad,  and  pray  God  to  succor  you?"  boomed 
the  venerable  parson,  at  this  point. 

"  I  didn't  think  of  it,  I  suppose,  until  it 
was  too  late.  It  was  part  of  the  ghost's  in- 
fernal cunning,  you  see,  to  make  me  forget 
everything  except  him  and  what  he  was  do- 
ing. Well,  the  thing  he  brought  out  was  a 
discolored  old  parchment,  folded  in  triangu- 
lar shape,  and  very  much  worn  and  crumpled 
along  the  edges.  He  turned  it  over,  and  I 
saw,  looking  through  his  eyes,  that  some- 
thing had  been  written  on  the  hack,  and 
partly  scratched  out.  Then  I  felt  him  think 
— '  I'll  open  it ! '  and  when  he  (or  we)  made 
the  attempt,  wo  found  it  was  sealed  along 
the  edges  with  seven  wafers — three  red  and 
four  blue." 

"  Why,  it  was  something  like  the  one 
you  found,  wasn't  it  ? "  murmured  Mrs.  Ten- 
7 


terden.  "  How  strange  there  should  be  two 
of  them !  " 

"A  coincidence,"  remarked  Cuthbert, 
"  is  often  the  strangest  feature  of  adventures 
of  this  kind. — Proceed,  brother !  " 

"  The  sight  of  those  wafers,"  continued 
Golightley,  who  was  sitting  erect,  with  his 
elbows  on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  and  accent- 
ing his  narrative  with  the  impact  of  one 
long  forefinger  against  the  other — "  the  sight 
of  those  seven  wafers,  so  far  from  making 
me  hesitate  about  my  right  to  break  them 
open,  gave  me  (through  the  depraved  heart 
of  the  Doppelgangcr,  you  understand)  a 
thrill  of  delight,  because  here  was  some- 
thing unlawful  to  be  done.  And  yet,  some- 
how, it  didn't  seem  wrong  either,  but  a  par- 
ticularly pleasant  kind  of  right.  At  all 
events,  when  I  saw  him  begin  breaking  the 
seals  open,  I  approved  and  rejoiced  exceed- 
ingly, and  accepted  the  deed  as  my  own. 
We  violated  them  one  by  one,  and,  when  the 
parchment  lay  open  before  us,  we  had  a 
complacent  little  chuckle  together." 

"  The  Lord  be  merciful  unto  you  a  sin- 
ner !  "  rumbled  Parson  Graeme,  whose  ven- 
erable mind  had  lost  the  elasticity  whereby 
to  distinguish  the  impress  of  a  skillfully-told 
fiction  from  that  of  a  true  tale.  Fortunately, 
j  he  was  a  Universalist,  and  had  hopes  even 
for  so  depraved  a  soul  as  Uncle  Golightley's. 

"But  tell  me — what  was  in  the  parch- 
ment?" demanded  Madge,  with  a  piquant 
intrepidity  that  caused  a  corner  of  Cuth- 
bert's  mouth  to  move  slightly,  and  him  to 
turn  a  quiet  glance  on  the  questioner. 

"  What  was  in  it,  my  dear  child  ? "  re- 
turned Uncle  Golightley,  taking  her  hand 
caressingly  in  his  own ;  "  why,  writing — 
nothing  but  writing!"  The  body  of  the 
writing  was  in  an  old-fashioned  but  easily- 
legible  hand  ;  but  across  the  top  of  the  page 
was  one  sentence  in  a  different  character. 
We  read  that  first,  and  it  gave  us  such  an 
appetite  for  what  was  to  follow,  as  only  a 
warning  to  read  no  further  could  have  done. 

"  However,"  said  the  story-teller,  after 
an  interval  of  silent  gazing  at  the  fire,  which, 
reflected  in  his  glasses,  seemed  to  give  his 
eyes  a  red,  demoniac  glare — "  however,  I  am 
not  going  to  tell  you  what  was  written  in 
that  document — I  promised  my  Doppelydn- 


98 


GARTH. 


ger  I  wouldn't,  and  it's  a  promise  I  haven't 
the  courage  to  break.  Luckily,  the  story 
does  not  need  that  I  should ;  in  fact,  its  pe- 
culiar interest  would  be  greatly  impaired 
were  I  to  do  so.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  it 
was  a  potent  spell,  and  that  its  effect  was  to 
endow  us  (under  certain  penalties  which  I 
can  appreciate  better  now  than  I  did  then) 
with  a  peculiar  and  irresistible  power ;  a 
power,  too,  that  could  be  exercised  invisi- 
bly, and  whose  very  existence  would  be  un- 
suspected by  most  people.  Not  only  that, 
but  it  was,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  perfectly 
legitimate  power;  no  one  could  have  con- 
demned me — us — for  using  it;  no  one,  ex- 
cept ourselves,  could  have  divined  the  secret 
sin  that  lurked  within  it;  in  fact,  the  sin 
was  nameless,  intangible — so  subtile  that  it 
vanished  altogether  beneath  a  direct  look, 
or  appeared  only  in  the  likeness  of  a  virtue. 
And  to  tell  the  truth,"  affirmed  Uncle  Go- 
lightley,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  with  a 
dry  laugh — "  to  tell  the  truth,  my  good  peo- 
ple, I'm  more  than  half  inclined,  to-night, 
to  think  that  there  really  was,  so  far  as  I 
was  concerned,  more  of  right  than  wrong  in 
the  matter,  after  all !  The  devil  had  a  finger 
in  the  pie,  I  admit;  but  it's  my  opinion  that 
he  simply  played  a  practical  joke  on  my 
common-sense ;  and  that,  if  he  had  kept  out 
of  the  way  and  had  left  me  to  deal  with  that 
seven-sealed  affair  alone,  I  should  have  come 
off  without  singeing  a  hair.  It  was  the 
doubt — the  damned,  haunting,  casuistical 
doubt — that  betrayed  the  cloven  hoof!  That 
Doppelganger  of  mine — he  tries  to  persuade 
me  that  he's  the  best  friend  I  have ;  and 
most  of  the  time  I  believe  him,  but  some- 
times—when I  have  a  headache  or  an  in- 
fluenza, for  instance — sometimes  I  don't ! 

"  Well — but  this  is  getting  to  be  rather 
a  metaphysical  ghost-story,  isn't  it. — Come, 
wake  up,  Mildred,  and  hear  the  end  of  it. — 
As  for  you,  Cuthbert,  old  boy,  I  see  you  re- 
member my  philosophic  and  analytic  pre- 
dilections of  old. — Well,  and  so,  my  little 
Margaret,  the  ghost  and  I  read  to  the  end  of 
our  naughty  parchment,  and  then  we  folded 
it  carefully  up,  and  sat  down  to  think  what 
we  would  do  next.  We  didn't  need  the 
parchment  any  more — that  was  pretty  plain 
to  us — but  neither  would  it  do  to  destroy  it, 


or  to  let  anybody  else  get  hold  of  it.  It 
must  be  put  away  somewhere,  where  it 
would  remain  both  safe  and  secret.  After 
a  few  moments  I  felt  it  coming  into  the 
ghost's  mind  where  the  hiding-place  should 
be  ;  and  I  agreed  to  it  immediately,  and  we 
had  another  quiet  chuckle  over  our  clever- 
ness. I  saw  him  put  the  papers  back  in  the 
box  and  shut  the  box  up ;  the  triangular 
parchment  with  the  seven  violated  seals  he 
thrust  into  his  bosom — I  still  seeming  to  be 
the  real  doer  of  all  he  seemed  to  do.  lie 
got  up  and  stole  away  on  tiptoe  down  the 
garret-stairs ;  it  was  then  quite  dark,  but, 
as  I  said  before,  I  could  see  him  all  the 
better  for  that,  and  I  stole  along  witli  him. 
It  was  so  dark  that,  when  we  came  to  the 
first-floor  and  met  Captain  Brian  on  the 
broad  landing,  he  passed  without  seeming 
to  see  us.  Since  then  I  have  often  won- 
dered whether,  had  he  seen  us  at  all,  he'd 
have  seen  two  of  us  or  only  one  ?  and  which 
one? 

"  Down  we  went  to  the  kitchen — this 
same  old  kitchen  with  the  embers  of  a  fire 
upon  the  hearth.  There  was  light  enough 
there  to  throw  a  shadow  on  the  opposite 
wall,  but  yet  there  didn't  seem  to  be  enough 
to  cast  two !  One  only  could  I  see  stealing 
along  beside  me.  Either  the  ghost  itself 
was  the  shadow — or  else,  in  spite  of  its 
overmastering  reality  to  me,  it  had  not  ma- 
terial stuff  enough  to  intercept  the  dying 
firelight.  We  went  to  the  dresser — the 
same  one,  I  think,  that  stands  beside  the 
wall  there  now — and  laid  hold  of  an  old 
pewter  plate  with  a  double  bottom,  used  for 
keeping  buckwheats  hot.  We  unscrewed 
the  false  bottom,  slipped  the  triangular 
parchment  inside  the  plate,  and  screwed  it 
up  again.  Then  we  took  an  old  hatchet 
from  the  corner  where  it  hung  and  went 
down  the  cellar-steps. 

"  It  must  have  been  pitch-dark,  but  I 
saw  my  pet  cat  sitting  on  the  head  of  an 
apple-barrel.  She  had  always  been  fond  of 
me,  after  the  selfish  •  manner  of  cats ;  but 
now  her  back  was  up,  her  eyes  glaring,  and 
her  tail  almost  as  big  round  as  my  arm.  As 
we  came  nearer,  she  gave  the  most  hideous, 
despairing,  miserable  yowl  I  ever  heard,  and 
dashed  past  us  up  the  stairs.  It  could  not 


GOLIGHTLEY'S  DOUBLE. 


99 


have  been  the  sight  of  me  that  had  thrown 
her  into  such  a  fit,  and  I  leave  it  to  any  one 
familiar  with  ghost-stories  like  this  to  guess 
what  else  it  could  have  been. 

"  The  cellar-door  flew  shut  with  a  bang, 
closing  us  in.  I  was  ordinarily  rather  a 
timid  boy,  I  believe,  and  I  remember  won- 
dering why  I  didn't  feel  frightened  then,  for 
I  was  as  bold  as  a  lion.  Probably  it  was 
because  I  existed  only  in  sympathy  with  the 
ghost,  and,  of  course,  a  dark  cellar  was  the 
most  congenial  sort  of  place  for  him.  We 
kept  along  and  soon  brought  up  against  that 
part  of  the  wall  which  is  just  underneath 
the  front-door  of  the  house.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  wall,  and  beneath  the  threshold- 
stone,  lay  the  bones  of  the  two  legendary 
Indians.  The  wall  was  of  brick — the  same 
bricks  that  Neil  Drmson  had  built  up  there 
two  centuries  before.  I  saw  tlie  ghost  take 
the  hatchet  and  begin  loosening  some  of 
these  bricks  and  taking  them  out.  I  had 
known  he  would  do  this  ever  since  I  felt  the 
purpose  enter  his  mind  up  in  the  garret,  and 
now  I  approved  again,  and  seemed  to  help. 
In  a  short  time  there  was  a  hole  through  the 
wall,  and  a  little  cavity  had  been  dug  out  be- 
yond. It  seemed  to  me  that  we  had  dug  right 
into  the  skeleton  of  the  murdered  Indian; 
and  when  we  had  taken  the  old  pewter  plate 
with  its  contents,  and  thrust  it  far  into  the 
hole,  I  peeped  in  through  the  ghost's  eyes, 
and  saw  it  lying  in  the  mouldering  cavity  of 
the  ribs,  just  where  the  heart  used  to  be !  " 

Here  Mrs.  Tenterden  began  to  laugh 
rather  hysterically ;  remarking  brokenly 
that  it  seemed  such  a  funny  thing  for  a 
skeleton  to  have  a  pewter  plate  for  a  heart. 

"  Ay,  see  how  a  man  is  led  on  from  one 
thing  to  another !  "  growled  the  ancient  par- 
son. "  If  he  hadn't  broken  open  the  seals 
and  read  the  parchment  in  the  first  place, 
he'd  never  have  been  tempted  to  make  away 
with  his  father's  warming  -  dishes  after- 
ward !  " 

"  Well,  I'm  nearly  at  the  end  of  my  cata- 
logue of  crimes,"  returned  Golightley,  laugh- 
ing affably,  and  not  at  all  put  out  by  the  in- 
terruption. "By  George!  I  ought  to  feel 
complimented — eh,  Cuthbert? — at  the  flavor 
of  reality  I  seem  to  have  contrived  to  give 
to  this  extempore  little  jeu  desprit. — Let 


me  see,  where  was  I,  my  dear  little  Marga- 
ret ?  Oh,  yes,  we  had  got  tine  parchment 
safe  into  the  hole.  Well,  then  we  filled 
the  hole  up,  and  replaced  the  bricks  as  they 
were  before.  And  then  came  the  most  dis- 
agreeable part  of  the  adventure  to  me. 

"  The  ghost  had  hitherto  kept  his  back 
constantly  turned  toward  me,  and  I  had 
never  thought  of  his  face — whether  it  re- 
sembled mine  or  was  different  from  it,  or 
how  it  was.  I  had  only  seen  him  from  be- 
hind, and  had  no  more  curiosity  as  to  his 
features  than  as  to  my  own.  But,  when  the 
last  brick  had  been  settled  in  its  proper  po- 
sition and  there  was  no  more  work  to  do,  the 
ghost  turned  quietly  about  and  stared  at  me ! 

"  He  certainly  did  resemble  me  very 
closely,  but  it  was  a  ghastly  likeness,  brim- 
ming over  with  infernal  malice.  It  was  a 
face  that  copied  mine  throughout  to  a  hair, 
and  yet,  instead  of  being  an  innocent,  boyish 
face,  it  was  a  face  that  had  lived  in  hell,  and 
was  familiar  with  all  its  wickedness.  And 
another  thing — wicked  as  it  was  from  the 
core  outward,  I  could  see  nothing  in  it  which 
I  could  not  imagine  true  of  myself.  We 
were  essentially  one,  and  among  all  the  le- 
gions of  devils  there  was  not  one  who  could 
have  represented  me  as  this  one  did.  In  him 
I  saw  all  my  good  turned  to  bad,  and  all  my 
bad  made  worse.  He  was  a  visible  prophe- 
cy of  what  I  might  at  last  become,  and  had 
just  taken  the  first  step  toward  becoming. 
You  mustn't  expect  me  to  describe  the  face  ; 
but  if  any  one  of  you,  when  you  get  to 
heaven,  grow  tired  of  singing  psalms  and 
thrumming  on  your  harps — just  look  down 
over  the  edge  for  a  minute  and  call  for  me ! 

"  Now,  as  I  said,  so  long  as  the  ghost 
had  kept  his  back  toward  me,  and  so  con- 
cealed the  full  blast  of  his  deviltry,  I  had 
been  bold  and  jaunty  enough  ;  but  when  he 
confronted  me  eye  to  eye,  and  forced  me  to 
realize  what  it  was  had  supported  me  and 
led  me  on,  I  began  to  sicken  and  tremble. 
At  the  same  time,  though,  I  felt  that  what- 
ever strength  I  had  now  depended  on  him, 
and  that,  hideous  as  he  was,  I  could  rely  on 
no  other  support  than  his.  I  would  have 
given  the  best  half  of  my  life  never  to  have 
seen  him  at  all,  but,  since  that  was  past  help- 
ing, I  was  ready  to  give  the  other  half  to 


100 


GARTH. 


keep  him  with  me  forever  thenceforth.  But 
the  worst  of  that  kind  of  friends  is,  they 
are  so  apt  to  take  leave  of  you  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  scrapes  they  get  you  into ;  and  I 
knew,  as  soon  as  he  turned  about,  that  he 
was  going  to  desert  me  in  that  dark  cellar. 
The  last  moment,  I  remember,  was  an  in- 
describable whirl  of  all  sorts  of  strange 
sights  and  thoughts.  I  imagined  this  fellow 
dogging  my  steps  ever  since  I  was  born, 
sometimes  coming  near  enough  to  touch 
me,  sometimes  dropping  behind  again,  then 
catching  up  once  more,  and,  on  this  fatal 
day,  fairly  getting  the  best  of  me.  And  that 
was  not  all :  I  saw  him  cropping  up  at  unex- 
pected junctures  throughout  my  future  life, 
always  bearing  the  same  devilish  resemblance 
to  me,  always,  by  means  of  the  spell,  help- 
ing me  to  gain  some  advantage,  fair  in  out- 
ward seeming,  but  which  in  my  own  secret 
heart  I  knew  was  dastardly. 

"So  by  degrees  he  vitiated  my  soul, 
surely,  yet  so  subtilely  that  even  to  myself 
I  would  not  admit  my  guilt.  At  last  the 
fifth  act  of  the  tragedy  came  ;  the  spell  had 
been  used  for  the  last  time — it  had  succeeded, 
as  it  always  must,  but  my  time  was  drawing 
near.  In  one  of  the  concluding  scenes  I 
made  a  sort  of  half-hearted  effort  to  retrieve 
myself,  but  it  did  not  avail.  Suddenly  I 
saw  a  body  that  I  knew  was  mine,  lying  in 
a  familiar  room,  bleeding  inwardly.  Friends 
were  standing  round  it,  and  some  enemies 
were  not  far  off;  but,  searching  everywhere, 
I  could  nowhere  find  the  demon.  For  an 
instant  I  felt  a  thrill  of  triumph,  thinking 
that  after  all  I  had  escaped.  Then  the  last 
breath  came,  and  the  soul  left  the  lifeless 
corpse  and  paused  for  a  moment  beside  it. 
As  it  turned  away  to  depart  I  saw  its  face, 
and  it  was  the  face  of  the  demon. — There, 
my  little  Margaret,  is  not  that  a  nice  ghost- 
story  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A    KISS     AT     PARTING. 

I  NEVER  knew,  brother,'1  said  Cuthbert, 
after  no  one  had  spoken  for  a  time,  "  what 
a  dramatic  genius  you  had.  Upon  my  word, 


I  would  not  dare  venture  either  into  the  gar- 
ret or  the  cellar  to-night." 

"  My  good  fathers !  "  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  folding  her  arms  with  a  shudder, 
"  I  should  think  not,  indeed!  " 

"  But  that  isn't  all !  "  exclaimed  Madge  ; 
"how  did  you  get  out  of  the  cellar?  And 
did  you  ever  see  the  ghost  again  ?  " 

Golightley  laughed,  and  drew  his  hand 
down  over  his  face  caressingly.  "I  see  I 
shall  have  to  confess,"  said  he,  "or  you'll  all 
be  looking  upon  me  as  a  hideous  criminal, 
taking  this  means  to  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it,  without  getting  compromised. — Why, 
don't  you  recollect,  Cuthbert,  that  old  vol- 
ume of  Italian  romances,  translated  by  a 
certain  John  Reynolds  about  the  time  our 
family  left  England,  and  brought  over  here, 
I  suppose,  by  old  Captain  Neil  himself? 
Well,  I  got  the  idea  of  my  yarn  from  one  of 
those  infernal  old  histories  of  his;  and,  by 
adding  local  tints  here  and  there,  I  made  it 
into  what  you  heard.  Bless  me  !  I  thought 
some  one  of  you  would  have  found  me  out 
before  I  was  half  through." 

"If  John  Reynolds  could  have  told  the 
story  as  you  told  it,"  observed  Garth,  with 
a  long  sigh,  "  we  should  have  remembered 
him  even  after  two  centuries.  There's  truth 
in  it,  more  or  less,  for  everybody ! " 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  so,"  murmured 
Elinor,  with  a  slight  frown  and  contraction 
of  the  under  eyelids. 

"  "What !  all  a  make-believe  ?  "  grumbled 
old  Mr.  Graeme,  standing  up  and  kicking  a 
shower  of  sparks  out  of  the  red-hot  log  with 
his  huge  foot.  "  Humph  !  shouldn't  make 
believe  about  serious  things  like  that,  Go- 
lightley, my  lad.  However,  since  it's  over 
and  done,  it's  better  to  have  it  make-believe 
than  truth — no  doubt  about  that,  eh  ? — haw, 
haw,  haw! — Nikomis,  what  do  you  think — 
why,  where  is  she  ?  " 

It  was  now  observed  for  the  first  time 
that  Nikomis  was  no  longer  one  of  the  circle. 
On  reflection,  however,  Garth  thought  lie 
romembered  having  seen  her  depart  about 
five  minutes  previous — shortly  before  the 
close  of  the  story,  and  Madge  affirmed  that 
she  had  gone  off  in  the  direction  of  the  back- 
door. 

"  Your  metaphysics  were  too  much  for 


THE  STUDIO. 


101 


her,  brother,"  said  Cuthbert;  "the  next 
time  you  tell  the  story,  you  must  flavor  it 
with  scalps  and  tomahawks,  for  her  sake." 

"  I  told  it  altogether  too  well  ever  to 
venture  on  repeating  it,"  returned  Golight- 
ley,  laughing  and  turning  away.  "  By 
George !  I  almost  humbugged  myself  for  the 
time  being." 

"  Nellie !  "  said  Mrs.  Tenterden,  who  had 
just  crushed  a  yawn,  "isn't  it  time  our 
wagon  was  here? — I  declare,  Golightley," 
she  added,  good-naturedly,  "  all  this  excite- 
ment has  made  me  dreadfully  sleepy !  " 

Garth  looked  out  of  the  window  and  re- 
ported that  the  wagon  was  at  the  door.  It 
was  thereupon  arranged  that  Elinor  and  Mrs. 
Tenterden  should  come  the  next  afternoon 
to  visit  the  studio,  while  Madge,  who  was 
sitting  as  a  model  to  Garth  in  one  of  his  pict- 
ures, was  to  appear  in  the  morning.  Mean- 
time, the  minister,  with  ponderous  gallantry, 
stood  ready  to  escort  the  three  ladies  home, 
looking,  in  his  vast  cape -coat,  like  some 
genial  old  mountain  with  snowy  summit. 
The  ladies  put  on  their  shawls  and  hoods, 
for  it  was  colder  than  ever,  and  all  the  seven 
friends  came  out  upon  the  door-step,  and 
paused  there  a  moment  to  see  the  wide  val- 
ley sleeping  beneath  the  moon,  and  Wabeno 
watching  over  it  like  a  shadow. 

"  Is  this  the  threshold-stone  you  all  were 
talking  about,"  inquired  Mrs.  Tenterden, 
"  that  has  the  Indians  under  it  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Cnthbert;  "and  it  is 
here  that  the  pewter  buckwheat-plate  re- 
poses." 

"  Now,  grandfather,  if  you'll  put  Mrs. 
Tenterden  into  the  wagon,  I'll  hold  the 
horse,"  said  Garth. 

"  Uncle  Golightley,"  said  Madge,  softly, 
as  they  stood  observing  the  parson's  manoeu- 
vres with  his  charge,  "  I  can  tell  you  where 
Nikomis  went." 

"  Can  you,  my  dear  ? "  ho  responded, 
laying  his  hand  affectionately  on  her  shoul- 
der. "  Well,  where  did  Nikomis  go  ?  " 

"She  went  down -cellar,"  said  Madge, 
looking  up  in  his  face. 

Uncle  Golightley  made  no  reply. 

"  She's  a  funny  old  creature,"  continued 
Madge,  "  but  not  half  so  stupid  as  she  looks. 
She  used  to  be  considered  a  sort  of  witch,  I 


believe,  before  she  came  here.  I  think  I  am 
better  acquainted  with  her  than  almost  any 
one,  and  she  has  told  me  some  very  curious 
things.  I  think  you  would  be  interested  in 
her." 

"All  in?  "  called  Garth,  from  the  horse's 
head. 

'•  In  a  moment !  "  cried  Madge. — "  Thank 
you,  Uncle  Golightley  !  Good-night !  "  She 
gave  his  hand  a  little  pressure,  and  whis- 
pered in  his  ear :  "  I  liked  your  story  very 
much  ;  but  I  shall  make  you  tell  me  the  rest 
of  it  some  time !  " 

"  All  right? "  called  Garth,  again. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  they  all  said. 

As  he  came  round  to  the  side  of  the 
wagon,  Madge  stooped  down,  and  held  out 
her  mouth  for  a  kiss.  He  kissed  her ;  and 
the  wagon  drove  off  before  Uncle  Golight- 
ley could  decide  whether  or  not  it  were 
incumbent  on  him  to  claim  a  salute  likewise. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE   STUDIO. 

"  On,  my  Garth,"  exclaimed  Madge ;  "  I 
am  so  tired !  " 

"Rest,  then,"  he  answered,  lowering  his 
paint-brush  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair. 

"  I  didn't  mean  in  that  way,"  rejoined  she, 
availing  herself,  nevertheless,  of  the  permis- 
sion, to  stretch  her  arms  and  alter  her  posi- 
tion. "  I'm  tired  of  seeing  you  sit  there  so 
long  moving  a  little  brush  up  and  down. 
Tell  me,  do  you  love  painting  better  than 
you  love  me  ?  " 

Garth  looked  at  her,  with  his  chin  upon 
his  breast,  but  made  no  reply. 

The  studio  occupied  the  northeastern 
corner  of  the  attic,  an  area  about  six  paces 
square  being  divided  off  from  the  rest  by 
rough  partitions.  -  The  naked  beams  and 
boards  of  the  angled  roof,  sloping  steeply  to 
the  floor  on  the  north  and  east,  gave  a  rude 
vitality  to  the  aspect  of  the  room.  The 
brown  bareness  of  the  walls  was  partly 
veiled  by  festoons  of  sombre  or  vivid  dra- 
pery, and  partly  by  studies  of  human  heads 
or  bits  of  landscape,  tacked  up  here  and 


102 


GARTH. 


there.  An  ottoman  across  one  corner  of 
the  room  was  covered  with  the  hide  of  an 
Indian  tiger ;  in  the  recess  behind,  a  cast  of 
the  Venus  of  Milo  was  bound  as  to  the  tem- 
ples with  a  blue-silk  scarf,  whose  fringed 
ends  rested  on  her  left  shoulder.  In  the 
opposite  corner  stood  a  suit  of  early  seven- 
teenth-century armor,  reflecting  in  its  pol- 
ished surfaces,  with  an  added  depth  of  tone 
and  grotesquely  distorted,  the  manifold 
forms  and  colors  of  the  surrounding  objects. 
Scores  of  canvases  were  stacked  against  the 
walls,  some  with  their  brown  backs  turned 
to  the  spectator,  others  revealing  more  or 
less  of  their  painted  faces.  An  antique 
bronze  candelabrum  depended  from  a  hook 
in  the  great  beam  traversing  the  angle  of  the 
roof.  A  small  iron  stove  was  set  up  on  the 
hearth,  and  above  the  fire  -  board  were 
grouped  some  of  the  old  pikes  and  battle- 
axes  which  Captain  Neil  Urmson  brought 
with  him  from  England,  in  1647,  together 
with  a  couple  of  Revolutionary  muskets  and 
a  pair  of  cutlasses,  trophies  of  the  late  cap- 
tain's warlike  achievements.  The  studio 
was  lighted  through  the  roof,  a  section  of 
which  to  the  north  had  been  removed,  and 
its  place  supplied  with  coarse  glass,  across 
which  wired  shades  were  made  to  slide  back 
and  forth.  In  the  shadow  beneath  this 
window  lurked  a  tall,  mysterious  mirror. 

Of  the  pictures  to  be  seen  here,  not  the 
least  striking,  perhaps,  was  the  studio  itself, 
with  the  artist  and  his  model  posed  in  the 
strong  light  and  shadow.  She,  clad  for  the 
occasion  in  an  antique,  long-waisted  gown, 
ruffles  at  her  wrists  and  a  quaint  ruff  stand- 
ing out  round  the  open  neck,  a  heavy  chain 
falling  from  her  shoulders  to  her  waist,  and 
an  aigrette  of  feathers  in  her  puffed  and 
frizzed  hair,  was  seated  negligently  in  a  high- 
backed,  oaken  arm-chair,  her  crossed  feet 
outstretched  beyond  the  stiff  hem  of  her 
embroidered  petticoat,  and  her  right  cheek 
supported  on  her  hand.'  Over  against  her 
the  artist  at  his  easel,  again  in  his  red  boat- 
ing-shirt, the  sleeves  turned  up  to  the  elbows 
of  his  dark,  muscular  arms.  Masses  of  deep 
brown  hair  stood  up  all  over  his  square- 
built  head ;  while  the  white  light  from 
above  showed  the  depression  in  the  centre 
of  his  rugged  forehead,  and  cast  swarthy 


shadows  beneath  the  irregular  level  of  his 
shaggy  brows,  and  brought  sharply  out  the 
strong  curves  of  the  under  lip,  and  the  cleft 
in  the  chin.  When  he  was  seated,  the  mas- 
siveness  of  the  young  man's  chest  and  shoul- 
ders, and  the  noble  set  of  his  head  upon  his 
stalwart  neck,  gave  promise  of  imposing 
stature ;  and  it  was  an  odd  surprise,  on  his 
standing  up,  to  find  that  he  was  below  mid- 
dle height. 

Madge,  after  a  pause,  during  which  she 
twisted  the  links  of  her  necklace  between 
the  fingers  of  her  left  hand,  spoke  again. 
Her  tone  was  half  plaintive,  half  wayward  ; 
but  the  girl  was  so  thoroughly  good-natured, 
so  prone  to  humorous  mischief,  and,  above 
all,  so  beautiful,  that  it  was  always  difficult 
to  forecast  either  her  words  or  her  acts. 
The  eye  of  analysis  was  dazzled  by  her 
charms,  while  the  subtile  fluctuations  of  her 
moods  compelled  it  to  be  continually  focus- 
ing itself  anew. 

"  You  loved  me  better  when  you  loved 
me  first,"  said  she,  "and  you  used  to  say 
then  that  you  hated  painting — well,  at  least, 
you  said  it  was  wicked,  and  you  hate  every- 
thing wicked,  you  know.  Now  that  you've 
come  to  care  for  painting,  you'll  begin  to 
hate  me ! " 

"  How  am  I  changed,  Madge?  " 

"Oh,  don't  I  remember  how  you  used  to 
blaze  at  me  with  your  eyes  sometimes,  and 
make  me  quiver  all  over !  You're  always 
quiet  and  grave  and  old,  now  ;  and  I'm  get- 
ting old,  too!  But  painting  crawls  so,  that 
a  year  seems  no  longer  to  you  than  a  week 
does  to  me." 

"  What  a  silly  girl  to  be  jealous  of  paint- 
ing !  Were  you  jealous  of  my  mother  ?  she 
was  my  first  love.  Sit  here  beside  me,"  he 
continued,  in  a^  more  tender  voice.  '  "  My 
girl,  other  loves  can  only  teach  me  how  to 
love  you  better." 

Madge,  having  seated  herself  on  a  camp- 
stool  at  her  lover's  side,  had  taken  one  of  his 
hands  in  her  lap,  and  was  stroking  it  lightly 
with  her  finger-tips. 

"  You  have  the  handsomest,  strongest 
hands  that  were  ever  seen,"  murmured  she. 
"  You  might  do  anything  with  such  hands." 

"I'll  make  you  a  fortune  with  them." 

"  Will  you  ? "  said  she,  glancing  at  him 


THE  STUDIO. 


103 


sidelong.  "  Is  that  all  you  paint  for — to 
make  me  a  fortune  ? " 

Garth  hesitated,  half  smiling. 

"  Are  you  always  thinking  of  me  when 
you  paint?"  she  went  on,  holding  up  her 
linger.  u  No ;  and  I  believe  you  often  for- 
get me  even  when  you're  doing  my  por- 
trait!" 

''  You're  too  near  me  to  be  seen  or 
thought  of  distinctly,"  returned  he,  redden- 
ing a  little  ;  "  but  you  must  be  at  the  bot- 
tom of  all  I  think  or  do." 

She  nodded  her  head,  and  smiled  to  her- 
self without  looking  up.  "  I'd  like  a  for- 
tune," said  she,  lightly  ;  "  the  biggest  in  the 
world ;  but  I'd  want  some  of  the  world  with 
it!" 

Garth  waited  to  hear  more. 

"  I  wouldn't  paint  pictures  or  write 
books,  or  do  any  of  that  stay-at-home  sort 
of  work,  if  I  were  a  man!  because,  however 
well  I  did  them,  it's  they  would  be  famous, 
and  not  I  my  own  self.  Instead  of  sending 
things  off  to  make  money  for  me,  I'd  go  and 
make  money  my  own  self,  and  have  every- 
body see  me  make  it ;  and  I'd  make  it  with 
my  own  self,  because  I  was  so  brave  or 
strong  or  beautiful  or  something !  If  I  were 
a  man,  I'd  be  a  famous  soldier,  and  conquer 
the  whole  world ;  or  a  terrible  robber ;  or 
at  least  a  great  minister  or  statesman,  to 
make  everybody  do  and  think  what  I  pleased 
— one  day  one  thing,  and  another  day  the 
opposite  thing,  if  I  chose  it!  Yes,  I  would 
Mr.  Garth,  if  I  were  a  man  !  " 

"Humph!  "  ejaculated  the  artist,  clutch- 
ing at  his  back-hair,  with  a  smile  ;  "  better 
be  a  prize-fighter  or  an  acrobat." 

"  I'm  only  a  woman,  you  know,"  con- 
tinued Madge,'  demurely,  though  with  a 
peculiar  glance  into  her  lover's  face.  "  But 
even  women  can  do  something  besides  stay 
at  home  nnd  spend  money,  if  they  have  it; 
and,  if  not,  grow  old  and  be  poor  both.  I 
can't  sing  and  play  on  the  violin  like  Miss 
Golightley  :  but  I  could  be  an  actress,  and 
have  all  the  men  in  the  world  in  love  with 
me.  I'm  not  afraid  of  them,  and  I'm  beau- 
tiful enough  :  and  I  know  how  to  make  my- 
self seem  even  more  beautiful  than  I  am. 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  Mr.  Garth  ? " 
she  demanded,  with  a  sudden  soft  'laugh  that 


prevented  him  from  knowing  exactly  what 
to  think.  He  gazed  at  her,  but,  though  she 
met  his  gaze,  he  could  not  penetrate  the 
laughter-sparkles  dancing  in  her  long,  black 
eyes. 

"  What  put  that  in  your  head  ? "  he 
asked  at  length. 

"  It  isn't  in  my  head,  it's  I ! "  returned 
she,  laughing  still.  "  Do  you  remember 
that  night  when  you  canoed  the  rapids? 
Well,  if  you  hadn't  done  it,  sir,  I'd  have  dis- 
appeared that  same  night,  nobody  knows 
where." 

"I didn't  tell  you  about  it  till  next  day," 
said  Garth,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  witch !  didn't  you  know  ? 
Xikomis  taught  me.  I  was  flying  over  the 
tops  of  the  trees,  on  my  way  to  a  witches' 
meeting  on  Wabeno,  when  I  saw  you  shoot- 
ing the  lower  fall;  so  I  alighted  on  the 
pine-knoll,  and  left  the  other  witch  who 
was  with  me  to  go  on  by  himself.  He  was 
angry,  but  I  told  him  that  a  man  who  was 
brave  and  skillful  enough  to  run  those  rapids 
was  better  than  a  witch  who  could  fly  about 
on  a  broomstick.  Since  then,  every  once  in 
a  while,  he's  sent  me  invitations  to  attend 
witch-meetings  all  over  the  world ;  and  sev- 
eral times,  Mr.  Garth,  I  almost  went;  for 
you  haven't  done  any  brave,  splendid  things 
for  ever  so  long ;  and  you  were  away  from 
me  in  Europe  for  years  and  years.  Tell  me, 
did  you  think  I'd  rather  stay  here  than  travel 
about  with  you  ?  Would  you  have  been 
astonished  if  you'd  met  me  in  London,  or 
Vienna,  or  Paris,  or  some  of  those  nice 
places,  leaning  on  the  witch's  arm?  Well,  I 
think  it  was  very  good  in  me  to  resist  his 
temptation,  and  wait  for  you  to  come  back. 
But  now  you  only  sit  and  paint,  as  if  people 
lived  forever,  and  Urmhurst  was  the  best 
place  to  live  in.  I  wish  I  were  a  man !  " 

Garth  turned  in  his  chair  and  took  both 
her  hands  in  both  his,  with  a  gentleness 
which  was  at  times  peculiar  to  him,  and 
more  impressive  than  any  ordinary  vehe- 
mence. 

''My  dear  girl!  my  dear  little  girl,"  he 
repeated  in  a  low,  inward  voice,  such  as  the 
listener  seems  rather  to  feel  than  to  hear. 
In  a  few  moments  he  rose  abruptly,  and  be- 
gan to  pace  up  and  down  the  studio  slowly, 


104 


GAETH. 


his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head.  "  I've 
done  you  wrong,  Madge ;  but  poverty  is  the 
trouble  —  we  live  from  hand  to  mouth. 
Would  you  have  married  me  any  time  in  the 
last  six  years  ?  " 

"  Listen,  my  Garth,"  returned  she,  spring- 
ing up  to  walk  beside  him,  folding  her  hands 
round  his  arm  and  speaking  close  to  his  ear. 
"  I  would  have  married  you  the  day  you  left 
college.  You  should  have  asked  me,  sir! 
Then  we  would  have  been  rich  and  famous 
before  now." 

"  It  takes  as  long  for  a  married  painter 
to  make  a  reputation  as  for  an  unmarried 
one ;  and  meanwhile—" 

"Oh,  always  this  painting!"  cried  she, 
stamping  her  foot.  "  Garth,  you  are  asleep; 
ever  since  you've  had  an  easel  and  palette 
you  have  been  asleep.  Be  all  warm,  and 
awake,  and  fierce,  and  splendid !  Make  me 
afraid  of  you  a  little,  please,  dear !  Yes,  I 
am  jealous  of  painting ;  I  want  you  to  love 
me — me,  more  than  anything  in  the  world ! 
Do  you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Garth,  pausing  in  his  walk 
and  looking  at  her. 

She  put  her  quick  arms  round  his  neck 
with  a  little  exulting  cry,  and  they  kissed 
each  other. 

"  If  you  had  married  me  when  you  left  col- 
lege," resumed  Madge,  softly,  looking  down 
at  the  dainty  pointing  of  her  toes  as  they 
walked  on,  "it  wouldn't  have  been  by 
painting  that  we  should  have  made  our  for- 
tune. Ah!  you  don't  know  what  I  can  do, 
even  if  I  wasn't  a  witch.  You  don't  know 
me,  dear,  though  you  love  me  better  than 
anything  in  the  world.  But  if  you'd  mar- 
ried me,  you  naughty  boy,  you  would  have 
found  me  out  long  ago — and  found  yourself 
out  too." 

''  Do  you  know  what  you  are  talking 
about? "  exclaimed  Garth,  half  laughing,  but 
with  a  hint  of  passion  in  his  tone. 

"Look  there!  "  said  Madge.  She  pointed 
to  the  dark  corner  where  the  mirror  stood, 
now  reflecting  the  faces  and  figures  of  her 
lover  and  herself.  "  Are  not  those  two 
people  handsome  and  well-matched  —  eh? 
and  they  have  brains,  which  is  more  impor- 
tant. The  man  looks  his  brains :  you  might 
think  the  woman  only  beautiful,  but  I 


shouldn't  wonder  if  she  had  as  much  sense 
as  the  man;  at  least,  she  can  use  what  she 
has  more  easily.  I  believe  those  two  people 
could  do  anything  they  pleased  :  only,  they 
must  always  please  to  do  the  same  thing. 
They  could  do  or  be  anything — a  king  and 
queen,  if  they  chose.  I  wish  the  man  was 
taller:  however,  his  face  makes  him  seem 
taller  than  other  men's  bodies  make  them 
look.  He  and  his  wife  are  just  of  a  height 
....  oh,  she  isn't  his  wife,  is  she  ? " 

This  latter  turn  was  so  demurely  given, 
that  for  an  instant  Garth  missed  the  point 
of  it,  and  for  the  next  instant  doubted 
whether  Madge  saw  it  herself.  But  there 
was  a  sparkle  in  the  corner  of  her  eye  to 
rebuke  his  slow  wits.  There  could  certainly 
be  no  question  as  to  her  intelligence ;  and 
some  of  its  manifestations  made  Garth,  in 
spite  of  his  years  in  Europe,  half  believe 
himself  her  inferior  in  worldly  wisdom.  She 
was  self-possessed  to  a  degree  extraordinary 
in  a  village  maiden,  unless  her  own  theory 
as  to  witchcraft  were  to  be  accepted. 

He  paused  a  while  before  speaking.  It 
was  hard  to  be  self-contained  under  the 
influence  of  this  young  woman.  She  made 
darkness  seem  light,  and  the  impossible  easy, 
and,  witch  or  not,  she  was  bewitching. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  demanded  at 
length.  "  If  I'm  not  a  painter,  I'm  noth- 
ing!" 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are.  You 
are  a  man;  I  love  men,  and  the  best  man 
best;  and  I've  never  seen  a  better  man  than 
you.  Most  good  men  are  fools,  and  most 
bad  men  are  cunning;  but  you  are  not  cun- 
ning, and  you're  not  a  fool ;  you  are  good, 
and  yet  you  have  all  the  strength  that  bad 
men  have." 

"  Madge,  if  Sam  Kineo  had  beaten  me  in 
that  fight  of  ours,  would  you  have  loved 
him  instead  of  me  ?  " 

She  looked  sidelong  at  him,  and  gave  his 
arm  a  soft  pressure,  but  the  next  moment 
said,  way  wardly :  "  Why  not,  sir,  if  he'd 
beaten  you  fair,  and  been  in  the  right  ?  He 
told  a  falsehood  about  me,  to  be  sure ;  but 
if  he'd  made  it  good  against  you  .  .  .  there's 
no  telling,  it  might  have  turned  out  true." 

"  Is  strength  all  you  care  for,  then  ?  " 

"  What  is  better  worth  a  man's  having, 


THE   STUDIO. 


105 


I'd  like  to  know  ?  women  don't  fall  in  love 
\vith  weak  failures.  You  cannot  use  your 
strength  in  painting." 

The  artist  stopped  in  front  of  his  easel, 
and  gazed  fro \vningly  at  the  picture. 
Madge,  her  cheek  resting  on  his  shoulder, 
embraced  his  relaxed  arm  and  hand.  Her 
eyes  were  toward  the  picture,  but  she  was 
watching  her  lover,  and  feeling  his  pulse ; 
being  still,  perhaps,  a  little  afraid  of  him. 

"  My  best  does  that,"  he  said  at  length, 
nodding  at  the  canvas ;  "  and  so  the  highest 
part  of  me  doesn't  satisfy  you." 

"  No  part  of  you  satisfies  me :  I  want 
the  whole  !  Men  must  have  bodies  to  their 
heads.  Painters  aren't  manly  enough  for 
you  to  be  one.  .  You  should  do  things,  not 
sit  down  and  imitate  them." 

"  Great  painters  are  great  men ;  you 
don't  know  what  you're  saying,  Madge.  The 
'  whole '  means  evil  as  well  as  good  :  my  art 
has  helped  to  keep  my  evil  down." 

"  Why  do  you  call  it  evil  ?  strength  and 
power  are  not  evil,  my  Garth.  I  believe  a 
great  deal  is  lost  from  the  fear  we  have  of 
being  called  bad,  by  weak  people  and  fools. 
Let  them  call  us  what  they  like,  so  we  get 
the  better  of  them." 

"  Hush,  my  darling  !  You  never  talked 
like  this  before.  I  shall  begin  to  believe  all 
you  said  about  witches  and  robbers." 

Madge  relinquished  his  arm,  and  walking 
listlessly  to  the  model's  chair  sat  down  in  it. 
"  Well,  paint  me,  sir,"  said  she  ;  "  you  love 
my  picture  better  than  me.  But  it  can 
never  be  to  you  what  I  would  be,  and  you 
can  never  be  to  it  what  you  might  have 
been  to  me." 

"  Heaven  and  earth !  "  burst  forth  Garth 
in  a  sudden  blaze,  "  what  would  you  have 
me  do  ?" 

The  woman's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and 
she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  "  I  only 
want  you  to  love  me  !  "  quavered  she. 

"  Love  you !  Would  it  be  loving  you  to 
give  up  painting  ?  Oh,  I've  had  my  tempta- 
tions !  without  knowing  it,  you  have  some- 
times been  my  tempter.  Asleep  ?  but  I'm 
doing  my  best :  don't  wake  me  in  that  way ! 
But  it's  hard  and  dull  for  you  .  .  .  but, 
Madge—" 

Although  Madge  had  hidden  her  face, 


and  filled  her  eyes  with  tears  that  were  at 
least  half  honest,  she  had  not  closed  her 
eyelids ;  for  Garth,  while  thus  passionately 
delivering  himself,  was  worth  looking  at — 
with  hot  face  and  flashing  eyes,  and  hands 
now  clinched,  now  thrown  open,  as  was  his 
way  in  vehement  moments.  But  with  the 
utterance  of  her  name  his  fierceness  melted, 
and  his  voice  was  charged  with  the  mascu- 
line tenderness  which,  however  self-pos- 
sessed, she  could  never  hear  without  a  quick- 
ened heart-beat.  He  came  near,  and  drew 
her  hands  from  her  face,  dropping  to  his 
knee  beside  her  chair. 

"  Madge,  I'll  confess :  I  thought  yon 
tired  of  me.  We  were  too  long  apart,  and 
misunderstood  each  other.  I've  not  done 
all  I  might  with  painting — not  tried  to 
make  money  from  it,  as  if  I'd  been  sure  of 
you.  I  got  bound  up  in  my  pictures,  and 
stingy  of  them.  But  now,  I'll  sell  every- 
thing; I'll  paint  to  sell,  and  to  be  famous. 
It's  a  grand  profession,  more  than  I  can  do 
justice  to;  I  musn't  give  it  up.  But  no 
more  dullness  and  slowness,  my  girl.  Come, 
we'll  finish  this  picture,  and  then  wait  no 
longer.  Marry  me,  dear  :  be  my  wife.  You 
shall  see  the  world,  and  be  happy  your  own 
way — every  one  at  your  feet.  Come,  I  trust 
yon — trust  me !  " 

She  leaned  back  luxurious,  with  half- 
closed  eyes  and  parted  lips.  This  was  some- 
thing like  a  wooing!  Truly,  when  Garth 
was  in  this  vein  almost  might  a  statue  have 
throbbed  responsive;  and  Madge,  despite 
her  clear  head  and  firm  fibre,  was  exquisite- 
ly sensible  to  the  luxury  of  love  :  possibly, 
indeed,  her  appreciation  outdid  any  man's 
power  of  ministering  to  it  single-banded. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  she  was  soothed  and 
pleasured  now,  and  had  the  wisdom  not  to 
let  her  present  failure  to  enforce  her  will 
regarding  her  lover's  profession  distress  her. 
Suffice  it  that,  after  long  apathy,  she  had 
kindled  anew  in  him  some  of  that  passionate 
fire  which  she  had  almost  feared  was  quite 
extinct.  Yes,  he  could  still  be  splendidly 
impetuous,  still  bring  agreeable  flutterings 
to  her  heart,  and  stimulate  blood  to  her 
cheeks  and  tears  to  her  eyes.  He  was  lov- 
able still ;  a  hero  not  likely  to  be  given  up, 
painter  or  no.  And  though,  in  his  strong 


106 


GAKTH. 


moods,  ho  swayed  her  judgment  and  mag- 
netized her  will,  she  was  nevertheless  self- 
conscious  of  a  subtiler,  more  persistent 
power,  likely  in  the  end  to  get  the  odds  in 
her  favor. 

"How  can  I  help  trusting  you,  when 
you're  so  kind  to  me  ?  "  murmured  she  with 
a  happy  sigh.  "  I  must  wait  till  you're  cross 
again  before  knowing  what  to  do."  Pres- 
sently  she  looked  and  leaned  toward  him,  and 
said  with  curious  earnestness:  "  Garth,  tell 
me,  you  are  really  more  than  other  men? 
I've  thought  a  great  deal,  but  I've  seen  very 
little.  You  never  met  any  one,  in  Europe 
or  anywhere,  that  you  were  afraid  of?  but 
no,  no ! "  she  added  quickly,  putting  her 
hand  over  his  mouth,  "  don't  answer  me — 
never  answer  me  when  I  ask  such  silly  ques- 
tions :  I  don't  want  to  hear,  and  you  don't 
know  what  I  mean  either.  Let  us  be  happy, 
and  think  of  nothing.  There !  now  go  and 
paint  me  :  I  won't  be  tired  again." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  PICTUBE. 

THE  sitting  was  accordingly  resumed, 
Garth  working  at  first  mechanically,  but 
gradually  increasing  in  fervor,  till  be  began 
to  emit  the  occasional  long  sighs  which  de- 
noted profound  absorption.  "  I  wish  your 
lodgers  weren't  coming  to-day,"  he  mut- 
tered, at  length,  "  I  might  finish  this  head." 

"  If  I'd  been  Miss  Golightley,  I'd  never 
have  left  Europe,"  affirmed  the  model.  "  I'd 
have  gone  on  the  stage  with  my  violin,  and 
made  a  bigger  fortune  than  Mrs.  Tenterden 
lost." 

"  You're  not  cold-blooded  and  Wase,  but 
beautiful  and  energetic,"  replied  Garth,  with 
rather  less  than  his  customary  impartiality. 
"  How  do  they  get  on  at  your  house?  " 

"  They  don't  know  how  to  be  poor  at 
all,"  said  Madge,  laughing ;  "  but  they  are 
very  pleasant.  I  hope  they'll  find  who  stole 
their  money.  Mrs.  Tenterden  said  a  detec- 
tive was  after  it — not  a  regular  detective, 
but  some  one  who  had  been  acquainted  with 
them  before ;  a  Mr.  Selwyn — the  same  name 
as  your  friend." 


"  Ha  !  "  muttered  Garth,  to  himself ; 
"  what  if  it  should  be  Jack !  it  would  be 
like  him  to  turn  detective  for  a  while — and 
be  a  good  one,  too." 

"Your  uncle  Golightley  knows  nothing 
about  the  detective,"  Madge  remarked,  after 
a  short  silence.  "  He  doesn't  believe  in  de- 
tectives, Mrs.  Tenterden  said,  and  told  her 
it  would  be  no  use  employing  one.  But 
this  Selwyn  offered  himself  in  a  friendly 
sort  of  way,  and  Mrs.  Tenterden  consented 
without  telling  your  uncle,  because,  she 
says,  he's  been  so  kind  and  helpful  that  lie 
would  feel  hurt  if  anything  were  done 
against  his  advice." 

"  I  should  think  Mrs.  Tenterden  was  in 
the  right,"  said  Garth.  "  Turn  more  to  the 
left,  and  look  at  the  battle-axe  over  the  fire- 
place." 

"  Your  uncle  is  very  rich  now,  isn't 
he?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it ;  he  didn't 
appear  to  be  two  years  ago." 

"  If  he  is,  do  you  think  he'll  give  yon 
back  any  of  the  money  your  father  has  been 
sending  him  ? " 

"  He  might  make  the  offer,"  said  the 
artist,  with  a  smile.  "But,  you  know, 
there's  a  mystery  about  that  which  nobody 
understands,  except,  perhaps,  Uncle  Go- 
lightley himself." 

"  He  is  rather  mysterious,"  she  respond- 
ed, meditatively.  "  What  a  strange  story  ho 
told  us  last  night !  " 

•'  Father  says  he  was  a  morbidly  imagi- 
native boy." 

"  Such  vivid  imagination  seems  like  re- 
ality to  me.  What  do  you  suppose  was  in 
that  paper  that  he  hid  in  the  cellar  ?  " 

"  You're  turning  to  the  right  again," 
said  the  artist,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Do  you  think  it  could  have  had  any 
connection  with  the  mystery  about  the 
money?"  persisted  the  model,  who  seemed 
mischievously  determined  to  prove  her  lov- 
er's patience  to  the  utmost.  "  Let  me  tell 
you,  sir,"  she  continued,  as  he  pursued  his 
work  in  silence,  "  that  you  have  no  head  for 
affairs.  You  would  let  yourself  be  robbed 
as  easily  as  poor  Mrs.  Tenterden.  And  if 
ever  something  happens  that  you  pretend 
you  wish  should  happen,  Mr.  Garth,  it  must 


THE  PICTURE. 


be  on  condition  that  every  bit  of  the  busi- 
ness be  left  to  me !  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  God  bless  your  clever  little  heart!  you 
shall  do  your  worst  with  me  and  with  ev- 
erything belonging  to  me,"  exclaimed  he, 
laying  down  his  palette  and  brushes,  and 
clasping  his  hands  behind  his  head,  with 
n  smile.  "  Only  you  must  promise  to  let 
me  paint  you  at  least  once  a  year  without 
asking  me  a  single  question  about  the  con- 
nection between  bank-accounts  and  ghost- 
stories.  There  they  come !  " 

In  fact,  there  was  a  multitudinous  tramp 
upon  the  attic-stairs,  and  the  indistinct  mur- 
mur of  voices ;  then  three  authoritative  raps 
on  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Garth,  throwing  on  his 
coat  and  passing  his  hands  through  his  hair. 
In  stepped,  accordingly,  first  Mrs.  Tenterden 
in  black,  somewhat  out  of  breath,  but  smil- 
ing and  greeting  the  artist  with  perfect 
good-nature ;  then  Miss  Golightley,  in  gray 
touched  up  with  scarlet,  coldly  civil  and  un- 
demonstrative;  close  behind  her,  Uncle  Go- 
lightley, striding  magnificent  in  a  purple-vel- 
vet smoking-jacket,  with  his  head  in  the  air; 
and,  finally,  Mr.  Urmson,  senior,  in  a  long 
dark-brown  dressing-gown,  bound  round  the 
waist  with  a  cord,  giving  him  the  appear- 
ance of  an  ascetic  and  reverend  monk. 

"  So  different  from  the  studios  abroad, 
Nellie,"  remarked  Mrs.  Tenterden,  in  an 
undertone.  "  I  should  think  it  would  be 
better  on  the  etage  below." 

"  Ah — ah !  Garth,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Go- 
lightley, coming  forward  and  expanding 
himself,  "  so  this  is  your  workshop — ah ! 
and  this  is  the  model. — Good-morning,  Mis- 
tress Margaret ;  well,  you're  enough  to  make 
a  house-painter  turn  Raphael."  He  laid  his 
white  hands  tenderly  on  the  young  girl's 
shoulders,  and  was  about  to  bestow  upon 
her  an  avuncular  salute  ;  but  she,  with  per- 
haps an  excess  of  maidenly  reserve,  evaded 
it  at  the  critical  moment  by  stooping  sud- 
denly to  pick  up  one  of  Garth's  paint-brushes. 
'•  Well,  well,"  laughed  Uncle  Golightley,  re- 
covering himself,  "  you're  bent  on  breaking 
my  heart,  I  see  that. — But  let's  have  a  look 
at  this  work  of  yours,  Garth.  Cuthbert 
tells  me  that  you  are  painting  the  family 
history,  as  he  is  writing  it.  H'm !  .  .  .  yes  \ 


....  by  George  I  ....  h'm !  "  with  these 
words,  and  holding  his  hands  arched  over 
his  eye-glasses,  the  child  of  aesthetic  culture 
settled  himself  in  front  of  the  canvas ;  the 
rest  of  the  company  (with  the  exception  of 
Garth,  who  stood  behind  the  easel,  with  his 
eyes  on  Miss  Golightley),  grouping  them- 
selves on  either  side  of  him. 

The  picture  represented  five  figures  re- 
lieved against  a  depth  of  sombre  background. 
The  central  personage  was  a  man  of  grim 
aspect,  whose  dark  frown  strangely  con- 
trasted with  the  grin  which  twisted  his  lips 
from  his  clinched  teeth.  From  a  deep  gash 
in  his  chin  the  dripping,  blood  spattered  on 
his  steel  gorget,  and  trickled  over  his  pol- 
islied  breastplate.  The  chief  light  in  the 
picture  was  created  by  the  smoky  flash  of  a 
pistol,  leveled  by  him  against  a  cavalier  in 
the  foreground,  whose  form  showed  black 
against  the  glare.  The  latter  had  just  re- 
ceived the  bullet ;  a  battle-axe  was  slipping 
from  his  grasp,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of 
falling  heavily  on  his  face.  A  soldier  in 
a  buff  jerkin  had  started  forward,  and 
grasped  him  by  the  arm  and  shoulder. 

Of  the  two  remaining  figures,  one  was  a 
young  woman,  nobly  formed,  who  clung  to 
him  of  the  pistol,  while  her  eyes  fastened  oil 
the  cavalier  in  a  stare  of  terror  and  anguish. 
Her  left  hand,  lying  across  her  bridegroom's 
breast,  was  red  with  the  blood  from  his 
wound, Which  had  likewise  sullied  the  purity 
of  her  golden  wedding-ring.  This  ring,  judg- 
ing from  the  presence  of  the  minister,  whose 
colossal  outline  loomed  in  the  background, 
had  but  the  moment  before  been  fitted  to  its 
place.  Into  the  midst  of  the  bridal-party, 
murder  had  thrust  its  ghastly  visage,  illumin- 
ing every  face  of  the  group  with  an  infernal 
gleam,  and  writhing  their  features  into  some 
likeness  to  itself.  Here  was  depicted  the  fatal 
consummation  of  a  sinful  history — a  consum- 
mation which  might  well  be  the  starting- 
point  of  a  yet  gloomier  history  of  retribu- 
tion and  remorse. 

"  Oh,  what  a  dreadful  picture  for  any- 
body to  paint !  "  exclaimed  kind  -  hearted 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  with  a  gesture  of  aversion. 

"I  hope  it  may  not  rekindle  ancestral 
heart-burnings,"  said  Mr.  Urmson,  who  was 
standing  at  her  side.  "  It's  a  scene  from  our 


108 


GAKTH. 


family  history,  you  know,  in  1646.     He  in  ' 
the  black  coat   is  Sir  Reginald  Golightley,  j 
and  the  black-browed  gentleman  who  has  j 
just  pistoled  him  is  his  ex-bosom  friend, 
Captain  Neil  Urmson." 

"  "What  a  shocking  thing !  Why  did  he 
doit?" 

.  "  Ah,  I  know  the  story — I  know  the 
story !  "  murmured  Uncle  Golightley  in  an 
absent  manner,  still  spying  at  the  picture 
beneath  his  arched  hands. — "  But  go  on, 
Cuthbert — you're  the  historian — you  can 
give  it  more  effect  than  I  could,  I  dare  say. — 
Really,  Garth,  this  is  very  good  indeed ! — By 
George,  you  surprise  me!  Figures  in  the 
foreground  still  unfinished ;  but — h'm  !  " 

Cuthbert  went  on  to  inform  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den  of  the  main  points  of  the  story,  and  ex- 
plained to  her  how  Sir  Reginald  had  got  be- 
side himself  with  fury  at  being  compelled  to 
witness  the  marriage  of  Lady  Eleanor  to  his 
rival. 

"  I  should  think  he  would !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  indignantly.  "If  I  ever  heard 
of  such  an  outrageous  flirt,  to  worry  the  poor 
man  so !  I  declare,  she  was  as  bad  as  any 
of  them — worse !  " 

"I  hope,"  said  Cuthbert,  quietly,  "that 
she  knew  nothing  of  the  plot  against  your 
ancestor  until  she  saw  it  consummated.  It 
came  very  near  having  a  different  upshot 
from  what  Captain  Urmson  had  intended ; 
and,  for  my  own  part,  I  must  confess  that  I 
have  sometimes  wished  Sir  Reginald  had 
fairly  succeeded  in  splitting  his  old  friend's 
head  open ;  it  would  have  saved  the  Urmson 
descendants  all  the  trouble  in  the  world !  " 

Mrs.  Tenterden  had  perhaps  been  on  the 
verge  of  uttering  a  similar  wish ;  but  find- 
ing herself  half  disarmed  by  this  forestall- 
ment,  she  was  content  to  remark,  with  gentle 
gravity,  "But  there  wouldn't  have  been 
any  descendants  in  that  case,  Mr.  Urmson, 
would  there  ?  " 

"  O  Mildred !  "  murmured  Uncle  Go- 
lightley, in  a  sort  of  dreamy  rapture,  "  you 
are  delicious — delicious !  " 

"You  are  right,  Mrs.  Tenterden — the 
captain  had  no  brothers,"  said  Cuthbert, 
with  his  usual  presence  of  mind.  "But 
that  is  all  the  story,  so  far  as  they  were  con- 
cerned." 


"  But  not  the  whole  story !  "  added  Go- 
lightley, with  a  melancholy  shake  of  the 
head.  "Ah,  no  —  that  isn't  ended  even 
yet !  " 

"  Dear  me,  what  dreadful  creatures  they 
were  in  those  days  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Tenterden, 
as  she  turned  away.  She  walked  to  the 
sofa,  and  sat  down  with  evident  satisfaction ; 
and,  Madge  taking  a  seat  beside  her,  the  two 
entered  into  a  friendly  conversation.  The 
elderly  lady  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  the 
ingenuous  village  beauty,  and  had  already 
been  moved  to  make  her  a  confidante  in 
many  matters  whereon  speech  was  perhaps 
more  pleasant  than  politic.  But  Madge,  in 
spite  of  her  ingenuousness,  had  about  her  an 
air  of  security  and  good  sense  which  in- 
spired trust ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
had  kept  more  than  one  secret  in  her  life 
with  such  inviolability  as  might  have  jus- 
tified even  more  confidence  than  she  re- 
ceived. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A  CUSTOMER. 

ELINOR  GOLIGHTLET,  all  this  time,  had 
been  standing  without  words,  and  almost 
without  motion  from  the  first,  gazing  at  the 
picture ;  and  the  artist  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  the  very  essence  of  the  tragedy  which 
he  had  portrayed  reflected  in  her  face.  It 
was  a  face  remarkably  susceptible  of  tragic 
expression,  and  withal  possessed  of  a  subtile 
mobility  which  rendered  it  especially  avail- 
able for  artistic  purposes.  By-and-by,  Miss 
Golightley  moved  away,  and,  without  taking 
any  notice  either  of  the  painter  or  the  rest 
of  the  company,  began  to  pace  slowly,  with 
her  arms  folded,  up  and  down  the  little  studio. 

Garth  came  out  from  behind  the  easel, 
and  apparently  became  absorbed  in  the  pict- 
ure himself.  Something  in  it  no  longer 
pleased  him.  He  glanced  frowningly  from 
the  canvas  to  Miss  Golightley,  and  from  her 
to  Madge,  and  then  back  again  to  the  picture. 
His  preoccupation  was  finally  invaded  by 
his  uncle,  who  laid  an  affectionate  arm  across 
his  shoulders,  and  asked  him  what  he  meant 
to  do  with  those  two  figures  in  the  fore- 
ground. 


A  CUSTOMER. 


109 


"  That  fellow  in  the  buff  coat — who  is  he 
to  be?  You  must  have  him  a  portrait,  you 
know,  as  well  as  the  rest.  It's  well,  my 
dear  nephew,  to  observe  the  laws  of  har- 
mony even  when  a  departure  from  them 
would  escape  critical  detection.  That's  a 
great  secret  of  power  I  Now,  here  we  have 
Parson  Graeme— an  excellent  likeness,  too, 
though  how  you  persuaded  that  jolly  old 
phiz  of  his  to  put  on  the  necessary  expres- 
sion of  alarm  and  horror,  is  beyond  me ! 
Then,  there's  yourself — very  powerful  that ; 
and,  by  George,  not  a  bit  flattered  either ! 
ba,  ha!  And  there's  your  Miss  Margaret," 
added  Uncle  Golightley,  lowering  his  voice ; 
"  but  she's  the  jewel  of  the  picture — puts  all 
the  rest  of  you  out  of  countenance.  Garth, 
that  face  ought  to  make  your  fortune,  if  you 
painted  nothing. else  all  your  life.  H'm! — 
what  was  I  saying  ?  " 

"  I  mean  to  make  the  others  portraits," 
said  Garth.  "  The  soldier  shall  be  Jack  Sel- 
wyn,  a  descendant  of  the  Selwyn  who  came 
with  Captain  Neil  from  England,  and  left 
him  because  of  their  quarrel  about  the  right 
to  disturb  the  old  sachem's  grave.  Most 
likely  he  was  really  present  at  this  scene." 

"  There  was  a  young  fellow  of  that  name 
whom  we  met  abroad.  I  couldn't  quite 
make  him  out.  Reckless,  devil-may-care 
chap — seemed  to  have  brains,  too ;  but  devil- 
ish independent  and  inquisitive.  However, 
what  are  you  going  to  make  of  the  cava- 
lier?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  but,  since  his  back  is 
toward  us,  it  doesn't  much  matter." 

"  Besides,"  said  Cuthbert,  "  he  evidently 
cannot  live  long,  whoever  he  is." 

"  Look  here,"  said  Uncle  Golightley, 
drawing  himself  up  and  caressing  his  cheeks, 
u  what  do  you  say  to  putting  in  a  likeness 
of  me?  By  just  turning  the  head  a  little 
more  to  the  right,  you'd  show  the  profile ; 
and,  for  all  you  know,  I  have  every  bit  as 
good  a  profile  as  Reginald  had." 

The  artist  looked  hard  at  him  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  Cut  off  your  whiskers,"  said  he,  "  and 
you'd  have  a  good  cavalier's  face ; "  and,  af- 
ter a  pause,  he  added,  "  you'll  do  very  well." 

"You  are  very  modest,"  remarked  Cuth- 
bert, "  to  desire  to  stand  in  the  shoes  of  a 


jilted  lover — with  a  bullet  through  him  into 
the  bargain." 

"  Ah,  you  mustn't  judge  too  much  by  ap- 
pearances," returned  Golightley,  with  a  lan- 
guid smile.  "Now,  if  you  observe  that 
young  woman's  face  closely,  don't  you  see 
that  she  appears  to  care  quite  as  much  for 
poor  Reginald  as  she  does  for  that  black- 
haired  savage  with  a  bloody  chin?  By  God, 
Garth !  that  gold  ring  and  the  bullet  are  in 
the  way,  to  be  sure,  but,  give  her  a  fair  show, 
and  I  believe  she'd  choose  the  other  man, 
after  all," 

"If  these  portraits  are  going  to  rake  up 
all  the  dead  and  buried  jealousies  of  the 
family,  I  advise  Garth  to  take  all  his  faces 
from  his  imagination,"  said  Cuthbert,  arch- 
ing his  eyebrow ;  and  with  this  caution  he 
walked  away,  and,  joining  Miss  Elinor,  began 
to  discuss  with  her  the  pictures  and  sketches 
which  were  dispersed  about  the  studio. 

"  Uncle  Golightley,"  said  Garth,  "I  think 
that  face  of  Eleanor's  spoils  the  picture." 

His  uncle,  who  had  again  become  ab- 
sorbed in  admiring  contemplation  of  this 
very  face,  absolutely  started.  "  My  dear 
nephew,  you  evidently  have  painted  better 
than  you  know." 

"  Madge  was  not  the  right  model  for  it," 
continued  Garth.  "  Her  face  is  too  beauti- 
ful, and  has  no  tragedy  in  it.  You  were 
talking  about  the  law  of  harmony — don't 
you  see  that  face  can  never  harmonize  with 
the  tone  of  the  picture  ? " 

"Now,  Garth,"  said  his  uncle,  putting 
his  arm  through  that  of  the  young  artist  as 
they  stood  together,  and  beginning  in  a  tone 
of  good-natured  amusement,  "  just  listen  to 
me  for  a  moment.  I'm  an  older  man  than 
you,  and  I  know  by  heart  all  the  good  pict- 
ures that  ever  were  painted.  I  tell  you 
frankly,  between  you  and  me,  that  what  you 
have  done  there  is,  in  some  respects,  as  good 
as  any  man  ever  did.  It  has  power,  it  has 
truth,  it  has  originality — that's  a  great  point 
— it  has  something  in  it  that  nobody  else 
could  have  put  there — something  inimitable 
and  indescribable — you  understand  what  I 
mean.  And  I  tell  you  frankly,  that  that  face 
of  Madge's,  or  Eleanor's  if  you  will,  is  worth 
all  the  rest  of  the  work  (good  as  it  is)  put 
together.  Now,  don't  touch  it,"  he  went 


110 


GARTH. 


on,  emphasizing  his  appeal  with  his  long 
forefinger ;  "  my  dear  boy,  don't  touch  it. 
As  for  harmony,  beauty  is  harmony ;  it  is, 
as  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  says,  its  own  ex- 
cuse for  being.  1  feel  the  greatest  interest 
in  your  success,  you  know  ;  you  have  genius 
— undoubted  genius ;  but  I  see  you  have 
Bome  of  the  infirmities  of  genius  too;  you 
don't  recognize  your  own  happiest  touch. 
Yield  to  my  judgment — yield  to  my  experi- 
ence. By-and-by,  all  in  good  time,  you'll 
acknowledge  that  I'm  right.  Take  my  word 
for  it." 

*'  I  could  take  your  word  for  it,"  replied 
Garth,  after  pulling  at  his  hair  awhile,  "  on 
any  other  point  better  than  on  this.  I  can  be 
advised  in  technicalities  and  still  be  an  artist 
in  my  own  right ;  but  the  soul  of  the  picture 
must  be  my  own.  Michael  Angelo  might 
conceive  it  better,  but  I'm  Garth  Urmson." 

Uncle  Golightley  patted  his  nephew  on 
the  shoulder.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a 
young  fellow  named  Hafiz,  who  wanted  to 
pull  down  this  tiresome  old  sky?  you  re- 
mind me  of  him.  But  you  must  build  up 
where  you  pull  down :  now,  what  are  you 
going  to  substitute  for  this  face?  " 

Garth  made  no  reply  to  this  question, 
though  words  seemed  to  lie  behind  his  lips  ; 
and  his  uncle,  who  really  appeared  to  have 
the  matter  at  heart,  was  encouraged. 

"  You've  bothered  over  this  until  you're 
a  bit  crazy — that's  all.  Go  quietly  on  and 
finish  up  the  odds  and  ends,  and  cover  Lady 
Eleanor  up  till  all's  done.  I'll  risk  my  repu- 
tation as  a  connoisseur  on  your  finding  her 
as  satisfactory  as  I  do,  in  the  end.  I  shall 
have  something  more  to  say  to  you,  then. 
By-the-way,  as  to  art  versus  profit.  Is  there 
anything  of  a  market  for  good  pictures  in 
this  great  and  free  country  ? " 

"  I  shall  do  my  best  with  this  thing,  at 
all  events ;  I  want  money." 

"  By  George,  I  want  yon  to  have  it ! 
That  picture,  with  its  present  Lady  Eleanor, 
is  wortli  its  weight  in  gold,  and  I  am  much 
mistaken  if  you  don't  make  a  small  fortune 
by  it.  Have  you  thought  of  any  particular 
price  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Garth,  rather  shortly ;  for  he 
thought  his  uncle  unnecessarily  curious. 

**  Because,"  continued  the  latter,  produc- 


ing a  cambric  handkerchief  from  his  purple- 
velvet  pocket,  and  hastily  wiping  his  eye- 
glasses with  it,  "if  five  thousand  dollars 
will  buy  it,  it's  going  to  be  mine.  Of  course, 
a  richer  man  than  I  might  offer  more,  and 
still  get  it  at  a  bargain ;  and  you  mustn't 
oblige  me  merely  because  blood  is  thicker 
than  water,  and  all  that.  In  fact,  I  tell  you 
frankly,  I  think  the  picture — as  it  stands — 
is  worth  infinitely  more.  But  five  thousand 
is  as  high  as  I  can  go  just  now ;  and,  be- 
tween you  and  me,  four-fifths  of  that  is  for 
the  very  part  you  don't  appreciate — you  bar- 
barian !  Well,  think  it  over,  my  dear  boy, 
and  take  your  time.  As  long  as  you  give 
me  the  run  of  the  studio,  you  know,  1  can 
afford  to  be  patient — ha  1  ha !  " 

•Garth,  for  some  time  after  hearing  this 
speech,  was  afflicted  with  a  species  of  mental 
dizziness,  which  prevented  him  from  taking 
conscious  note  of  what  was  going  on  around 
him.  He  walked  or  sat,  answered  questions, 
or  volunteered  remarks,  apparently  as  usual ; 
yet  all  was  automatic  and  slipped  from  his 
interior  recognition  like  water  off  a  duck's 
back.  He  was  awake  only  in  an  Aladdin's 
vision  of  wealth,  and  of  what  he  would  do 
with  it.  Five  thousand  dollars  was  ten  times 
as  much  as  he  had  expected  for  his  picture  ; 
and  wonderful  were  the  changes  which  the 
consideration  of  this  sum  introduced  into  his 
plans  and  prospects.  The  world  now  lay 
submissive,  inviting  him  to  go  whither  he 
chose,  and  do  whatsoever  he  pleased  in  it. 
Without  more  ado  he  could  marry  Madge 
and  carry  her  abroad — not  with  a  penurious 
and  uneasy  eye  for  economy,  but  generously 
and  with  flourish  of  trumpets. 

In  reviewing  his  past  life  he  marveled  at 
the  torpid  indifference — for  such  it  now  ap- 
peared— which  had  suffered  to  pass  away 
so  many  barren  and  irrevocable  years.  He 
began  to  arrive  at  an  understanding  of  what 
Madge  must  have  endured  throughout  his 
dreary  season  of  delay,  and  could  not  enough 
admire  her  long-suffering  affection  and  pa- 
tient cheerfulness.  She  might  have  married 
when  and  where  she  pleased  during  the  past 
few  years ;  yet  had  she  not  only  remained 
true  to  her  first  love,  but  never,  until  this 
very  morning,  had  dropped  so  much  as  a 
hint  that  he  was  doing  less  than  his  utmost 


A  CRITIC. 


Ill 


duty  by  her.  This  argued  her  no  less  lov- 
able than  she  was  lovely  and  loving.  Such 
women  were  rare,  indeed ;  and  Garth  ac- 
cused himself  of  having  valued  her  at  less 
than  her  true  worth,  and  heartily  thanked 
his  stars  that  she  had  been  spared  to  him 
till  what  time  his  eyes  began  to  recognize 
his  fair  fortune. 

But,  though  self-convicted  of  having 
been,  as  Madge  had  expressed  it,  asleep, 
Garth  was  still  a  prey  to  doubts  as  to  what 
was  the  soporific !  He  could  not  think  it 
painting,  which  had  been  the  means  of  rais- 
ing him  out  of  sleep  to  the  present  happy 
waking.  Nor  was  it  the  lack  of  public  rec- 
ognition which  had  bedrowsed  him,  since 
he  had  never  fairly  sought  it,  still  looking 
upon  himself  as  in  the  artistic  chrysalid,  un- 
ripe to  canvass  the  world's  suffrages.  How, 
then?  was  he  the  victim  of  hypochondria? 
or  had  he  but  passed  through  a  disagreeable 
though  necessary  phase  of  development  ? 

"  At  all  events,"  was  the  young  painter's 
conclusion,  "  I'm  in  no  danger  of  a  second 
hibernation !  " 

"  I  didn't  know  before,"  said  Miss  Go- 
lightley,  with  an  irrestrainable  gush  of 
laughter,  "that  you  Northern  people  ever 
did  really  hibernate  !  " 

In  becoming  for  the  first  time  actively 
aware  of  her  presence,  Garth  was  likewise 
aroused  to  an  obscure  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing been  for  an  indefinite  while  in  conversa- 
tion with  her.  Looking  about  him  in  some 
bewilderment,  he  found  himself  alone  with 
the  young  lady  in  the  studio,  apparently 
engaged  in  piloting  her  through  a  large 
portfolio  of  drawings  and  studies,  which  lay 
open  on  the  sofa  before  them.  Hereupon 
her  laugh,  which  had  the  rare  charm  of  un- 
trammeled  spontaneity,  proved  wonderfully 
contagious,  and  the  artist  responded  with  a 
heartiness  of  mirth  that  surprised  himself. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A    CRITIC. 

"  I  HAD  no  idea  you  ever  laughed,"  said 
Miss  Golightley,  becoming  sober,  while  the 
pink  flush  rapidly  died  away  from  her  clear 
face.  "Why  do  you?" 


"  Because  you  helped  me  catch  sight  of 
my  own  absurdity ;  I  suppose  nothing  else 
is  ridiculous  enough.  Thank  you.  So  you 
can  laugh  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  never  at  my  absurdities  ;  only 
at  my  solemnities,  sometimes." 

"  How  long  have  we  been  at  this  port- 
folio, Miss  Golightley  ? " 

"  Ever  since  your  father  handed  me  over 
to  you,  and  took  the  rest  of  the  people  down 
to  the  orchard.  If  I  had  known  you  were 
hibernating — " 

"  Have  I  done  anything  outlandish  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  seem  indifferent  to  your 
own  sketches,  and,  when  I  asked  you  whether 
you  were  never  afraid  of  the  use  of  models 
lowering  your  ideal,  you  made  that  singular 
remark — or,  after  all,  perhaps  it  was  pro- 
found ? " 

"  Talking  of  models,"  said  Garth,  with  a 
more  serious  air,  "  I  was  thinking,  a  little 
while  ago,  what  a  good  face  for  tragedy 
yours  was.  But  I  believe  your  laugh  is  still 
better.  It's  perfectly  funny,  and  yet  there's 
a  kind  of  pathos  in  it.  The  dimples  that 
come  on  your  cheek-bones  are  good,  too,  and 
unusual — I'm  only  being  artistic." 

"  Oh,  I've  been  talked  to  by  artists  be- 
fore," returned  the  lady,  with  a  little  dis- 
dainful quiver  of  the  mouth. 

"  You  think,"  said  Garth,  after  a  pause, 
"  that  my  picture  there  would  be  better  with- 
out the  portraits  ? " 

Miss  Golightley  colored  slightly,  but  had 
the  courage  of  her  opinions. 

"  Only  one  of  the  faces  is  really  a  por- 
trait. The  murderer  has  your  features,  but 
the  expression  comes  from  his  own  charac- 
ter— I  think  you  must  have  imagined  that, 
not  copied  it.  But  your  imagination  seems 
to  have  done  nothing  with  the  woman's  face. 
It's  very  lovely,  of  course,  Mr.  Urmson,  and 
very  well  painted ;  but  it  has  no  more  to  do 
with  such  a  tragedy  as  that  than  your  cousin 
herself  has." 

Garth  sat  frowning  at  the  wall  bcfor* 
him,  and  said  nothing.  Miss  Golightley, 
supposing  that  she  had  seriously  offended 
him,  determined  to  define  her  position,  as 
clearly  as  she  could,  and  then  leave  him  to 
his  ill-humor. 

"  I  was  thinking,  when  I  asked  you  about 


112 


GARTH. 


models,  how  some  of  the  greatest  painters 
seem  to  have  made  their  models  their  ideals. 
They  would  fall  in  love  with  some  beautiful 
woman,  and  paint  her  in  their  pictures ;  and 
get  so  blinded  by  their  natural  affections  as 
to  persuade  themselves  that  she  was  above 
any  ideal  that  their  imaginations  could  con- 
ceive." 

"  Why  might  she  not  have  been?  " 

"  I  don't  think  that  is  the  point,"  re- 
turned Miss  Golightley,  coldly.  "A  great 
artist  has  a  divine  gift,  and  he  dishonors  it 
if  he  only  copies  or  adapts  Nature,  instead  of 
recreating  it.  He  ought  not  to  allow  any 
human  being  to  be  the  limit  of  his  inspira- 
tion, even  if  she  were  more  beautiful  than 
anything  he  could  create." 

"  What  imports,  then,  is  not  what  he 
paints,  but  what  he  tries  to  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  he  should  keep  his  art 
sacred  from  everything  else — not  even  run  a 
risk  with  it.  As  soon  as  he  finds  himself 
hesitating  whether  to  make  his  model  an  end 
instead  of  a  means,  he  should  never  paint  her 
again.  Models  must  have  no  souls  or  char- 
acters of  their  own,  but  give  themselves  up 
to  be  made  over  in  harmony  with  the  spirit 
of  the  picture.  Otherwise  the  artist  will  by- 
and-by  begin  to  make  the  spirit  of  his  pict- 
ure in  harmony  with  them;  and  then, 
though  his  picture  may  be  lovely — lovelier 
than  if  he  had  aimed  higher  —  the  divin- 
ity will  be  out  of  it.  Are  you  smiling  be- 
cause what  I  say  is  commonplace,  Mr.  Urm- 
son?" 

"  No — at  the  poor  pegs  of  models.  But 
I  don't  feel  like  smiling.  Say  more." 

Miss  Golightley  having,  perhaps,  been 
piqued  into  saying  so  much  as  she  had  done 
already  by  Garth's  supposed  antagonism, 
was  embarrassed  at  his  unlooked-for  acqui- 
escence. 

"I  only  meant,"  said  she,  doubling  and 
nndoubling  the  corner  of  one  of  the  draw- 
ings, and  gradually  becoming  pink  from  fore- 
head to  chin,  "  that  persons  who  have  genius 
should  be  particularly  careful — the  dearest, 
most  intimate  companions  of  their  life  may 
become  the  worst  enemies  of  their  art,  if 
allowed  to  influence  it  in  any  merely  per- 
sonal way.  Their  love  and  their  art  might 
serve  to  counterpoise  each  other,  I  should 


think — each  be  the  recreation  from  the  other 
— but  never  interfere." 

u  A  bad  business,  I'm  afraid,"  Garth 
muttered  gloomily  to  himself.  "There  is 
one  thing  about  my  picture,  however,"  he 
added,  looking  Miss  Golightley  in  the  face, 
with  a  self-compassionate  smile,  "  though  I 
hadn't  the  power  to  annihilate  my  cousin's 
individuality,  and  give  her  one  to  carry  out 
the  design  of  the  picture,  at  all  events,  I 
didn't  bully  the  design  into  correspondence 
with  her  individuality.  As  you  said,  they 
have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other.  Well, 
you  are  an  honest  woman,  and  I  thank  you. 
Do  you  consider  my  uncle  a  good  critic  ?  " 

"I  should  suppose  he  had  very  correct 
ideas.  Why  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Garth,  digging  his  hands 
into  his  coat-pockets,  "  he  likes  Lady  Elea- 
nor, and  advises  me  not  to  alter  her  on  any 
account.  You  see,  I'd  had  my  own  misgiv- 
ings about  her,  and  you  have  confirmed 
them.  But  .  .  .  after  a  while  I  shall  want 
to  ask  you  one  more  question.  Meanwhile," 
he  went  on,  pulling  an  old  piece  of  paste- 
board out  of  the  pile  of  drawings,  "here  is 
the  first  portrait  I  ever  painted." 

Miss  Golightley  looked  at  it  at  first  with 
a  smile,  but  soon  with  a  softened  and  sym- 
pathetic interest.  Despite  grotesque  errors 
of  both  drawing  and  coloring,  the  charac- 
terization was  effective  and  powerful.  It 
represented  the  head  of  a  mild,  serene  wom- 
an, whose  hair  was  beginning  to  blanch 
beneath  her  immaculate  white  cap,  though 
her  wide,  level  eyebrows  still  retained  their 
youthful  darkness,  and  the  whole  face,  albeit 
marked  and  worn  by  the  advance  of  age, 
still  seemed  to  retain — -just  below  the  surface 
— the  sweet  and  tender  spirit  of  pure  young 
womanhood.  Such  a  face,  be  its  years  how- 
ever many,  can  never  really  grow  old. 

41  Is  this  Mrs.  Urmson  ?  "  asked  the  yonng 
lady,  in  a  voice  low  almost  to  timidity. 

"  Yes — my  mother.  I  did  it  up  here  by 
stealth,  believing  I  was  committing  a  sort  of 
theft.  The  paints  are  some  that  Nikomis 
gave  me,  and  I  laid  them  on  partly  with  my 
fingers,  and  partly  with  an  old  pair  of  scis- 
sors. But  I  don't  think  I  could  do  it  so  well 
again.  My  second  portrait  is  on  the  other 
side.  Both  are  done  from  memory,  without 


A  CRITIC. 


113 


models;  but  I  think  I  caught  the  spirit  of 
the  faces  all  the  better." 

Miss  Golightley  could  not  help  smiling  at 
this  remark,  and  it  was  a  shy,  girlish  smile, 
not  cold  and  cynical.  She  turned  over  the 
piece  of  pasteboard. 

"  Oh,  this  is  your  cousin— it's  very  funny 
— I  should  think  it  might  have  been  very 
good." 

''  I  showed  it  to  her,  for  the  first  time, 
th&  other  day ;  but  she  doesn't  appreciate  it. 
When  I  was  doing  it,  and  making  a  profound 
secret  of  it,  I  remember  how  guilty  I  felt 
one  day,  when  she  said  she  would  like  to 
have  some  one  take  her  portrait.  I  didn't 
go  near  my  paint-box  after  that  for  several 
years.  But  since  then  my  cousin  has  lost 
her  faith  in  painting,  and  I  have  found 
mine." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  didn't  care  for 
painting  when  you  did  these  things  ?  " 

"  I  liked  it  so  well  that  I  thought  it  must 
be  wrong.  My  grandfather  used  to  tell  me 
that  whatever  boys  liked  to  do  was  pretty 
sure  to  be  bad  for  them.  In  one  sense  I 
think  he  came  very  near  the  truth — for  men 
as  well  as  boys.  Too  much  doing  what  they 
like  makes  doing  what  they  don't  like  harder. 
And  they  have  to  do  what  they  don't  like 
•  once  in  a  while." 

To  this  profound  remark  Miss  Golightley 
made  no  rejoinder,  and  they  turned  over  the 
contents  of  the  portfolio  for  a  while  in  silence. 
Garth  was  well  aware  that  he  had  been  un- 
usually talkative,  and  that  he  was  talking 
merely  to  gain  time ;  though  what  he  was 
gaining  time  for  he  had  but  an  indistinct 
idea.  From  his  recent  vision  of  happiness 
and  ease,  he  had  abruptly  waked  to  find 
himself  neither  easy  nor  happy.  The  alter- 
native forced  upon  him  "was  as  disagreeable 
as  it  was  simple — it  was  the  old  question  be- 
tween honor  and  profit.  But  profit  in  this 
case  meant  more  than  the  ostensible  five 
thousand  dollars.  The  providing  Lady  Elea- 
nor with  a  new  head  to  correspond  with  the 
emotions  which  were  supposed  to  be  ago- 
nizing her  heart,  would  not  only  involve  the 
forfeiture  of  his  uncle's  offer,  but,  as  the  im- 
mediate conseqtience,  all  present  chance  of 
getting  married.  And,  if  he  missed  this 
chance,  what  right  had  he  to  suppose  that 


Fortune  would  procure  him  another  ?  Madge 
would  lose  faith  in  him,  and  perhaps  marry 
some  one  else.  At  all  events,  she  would  be 
doubly  offended  :  first,  that  he  should  prefer 
for  his  picture  any  other  face  than  the  lovely 
organization  of  curves  and  colors  which  she 
called  her  own ;  and,  secondly,  that  for  so 
impertinent  a  whim  he  should  voluntarily 
and  indefinitely  postpone  their  already  tardy 
happiness.  An  impertinent  whim — that  was 
what  she  would  consider  it ;  and  really,  for 
the  matter  6f  logic,  what  was  it  more  ?  A 
disinterested  woman  like  Miss  Golightley, 
who  had  received  a  life-long  artistic  train- 
ing, and  possessed  cool  and  fine  discrimina- 
tion, might  perceive  its  profound  inward 
significance;  but  Madge,  ingenuous,  affec- 
tionate, wayward,  unsophisticated,  would 
only  feel  the  slight  to  her  beauty  and  her 
love ;  and  who  could  blame  her  if  she  re- 
sented it  ? 

Garth  turned  the  matter  over  and  over 
in  his  mind,  but  could  get  no  satisfaction  out 
of  it.  He  wished  that  the  bargain  with  his 
uncle  had  been  irrevocably  completed  before 
this  misgiving  about  Lady  Eleanor's  physi- 
ognomy had  entered  his  own  head.  He 
wished  that  Miss  Golightley,  the  sight  of 
whose  face  as  she  looked  at  the  picture  had 
suggested  to  him  his  first  doubts,  had  staid 
down-stairs  ;  or  at  least  had  gone  down  with 
the  rest,  and  not  remained  to  poison  his 
dream  of  felicity  with  her  dose  of  unanswer- 
able remonstrances.  But  what  an  ignoble 
mood  was  this!  in  very  truth,  he  wished 
none  of  these  things  ;  and  was  conscious  of 
a  wholesome,  hearty  respect  for  the  young 
lady  who  had  been  kind  and  resolute  enough 
to  tell  him  what  he  ought  not  to  have  waited 
to  be  told.  All  the  same,  it  was  open  to 
him  to  regret  that  Uncle  Golightley  had  not 
set  his  heart  on  some  other  part  of  the  can- 
vas than  that  appropriated  to  Lady  Eleanor's 
features,  so  that  honor  and  profit  might  have 
fraternized  at  last,  and  rung  his  wedding- 
bells  for  him  side  by  side. 

But  might  he  not  hope,  after  all,  to  effect 
an  honorable  compromise  ?  What  if  his  nn- 
cle,  when  he  saw  the  alterations,  were  to 
come  to  his  senses  and  discover  that  he  liked 
the  picture  better  than  ever  ?  Or,  what  if 
Garth  wero  himself  to  discover  an  unsus- 


114 


GARTH. 


pected  capacity  for  tragic  expression  in 
Madge's  face,  and  by  a  few  telling  touches 
so  bring  the  same  to  bear  as  to  enhance  the 
value  both  of  the  portrait  and  the  design  at 
once  ?  It  was  true  that,  upon  Miss  Golight- 
ley's  theory,  the  power  to  do  this  would 
argue  him  but  an  indifferent  lover ;  never- 
theless, he  was  inclined  to  believe  that,  given 
the  power,  he  could  safely  afford  to  let  the 
theory  take  care  of  itself. 

Supposing  the  worst  to  come  to  the  worst, 
however,  he  reflected  that,  save»for  the  dis- 
appointment, he  would  be  really  no  worse 
off  than  he  was  before.  It  was  always  pos- 
sible that  ho  might  still  find  another  buyer 
for  his  picture ;  and,  although  not  five  thou- 
sand dollars,  nor  anything  like  it,  was  to  be 
looked  for,  it  was  not  too  much  to  antici- 
pate five  hundred,  or  even  a  thousand,  which 
would  enable  him  at  least  to  get  married,  if 
not  at  once  to  set  forth  on  his  wedding  tour. 
Meanwhile  he  would  be  careful  to  keep 
Madge  from  all  knowledge  of  Uncle  Golight- 
ley's  offer — his  uncle  himself  would  surely 
abstain  from  all  premature  allusion  to  it — 
and  thus,  if  the  affair  turned  out  badly,  she 
would  at  least  be  spared  any  further  mortifi- 
cation than  that  of  seeing  some  other  set  of 
features  take  precedence,,  on  this  occasion 
only,  of  her  own.  She  need  never  know 
how  near  she  had  been  to  affluence,  and  so 
the  silent  surrender  of  the  opportunity 
would  not  affect  her.  These  consolatory 
reflections  pretty  nearly  exhausted  Garth's 
list ;  one  loop-hole,  perhaps,  remained  in  the 
background,  through  which  it  might  be 
found  practicable  to  effect  a  not  dishonor- 
able escape  ;  but  on  this  point  he  felt  rather 
insecure,  and  had  avoided  putting  the  ques- 
tion to  the  issue  until  the  very  last  moment. 

"  That  is  the  end,"  said  Miss  Golightley, 
laying  down  the  last  drawing.  "I  am  very 
much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Not  at  all,"  returned  Garth,  abstract- 
edly, closing  the  portfolio  and  tying  up  the 
string ;  "  the  obligation  is  on  my  side." 

"  I  don't  know  what  made  me  say  all 
that,"  remarked  Miss  Golightley,  with  a 
faint  smile  glimmering  around  her  mouth 
and  eyes  ;  "  somehow  I  felt  better  acquainted 
with  you  than  I  am." 

'•It  was  the  laughing,  I  suppose,  that 


surprised  us  out  of  our  customary  behavior. 
I  wonder  when  we  shall  laugh  again  ?  Be- 
fore you  go,  come  and  take  another  look  at 
the  picture." 

They  arose  and  came  round  in  front  of 
the  easel,  and  both  looked,  resting  a  hand 
on  the  back  of  the  low  chair.  Presently  the 
artist  said : 

"  I'm  inclined  to  think  the  whole  thing 
a  failure.  Do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  blame  or  praise 
it  technically,  Mr.  Urmson ;  but  I  never  saw 
a  picture  that  made  me  feel  so  sad.  It  ought 
to  make  the  world  better — it  makes  evil  such 
a  fearful  thing.  And  yet  your — Lady  Elea- 
nor seems  to  be  making  fun  of  it !  " 

"You  think,  then,"  said  Garth,  turning 
his  eyes  with  a  kind  of  vehemence  on  his 
companion's  pale  face,  "  that  the  picture  has 
merit  enough  to  make  the  alteration  of  tbat 
part  of  it  worth  while  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  of  it!" 

"Well,"  rejoined  he,  drawing  a  deep 
breath,  "  that  is  saying  a  good  deal !  But  I 
am  glad  you  have  said  it." 

They  turned  away,  and  walked  to  the 
door. 

"We  are  going  to  stay  to  dinner,"  ob- 
served the  lady,  pleasantly,  "so  I  suppose  I 
shall  see  you  again." 

"Yes.  Come  up  here  often,  Miss  Go- 
lightley. I  have  other  things  to  show 
you." 

"  By-the-way,"  said  she,  with  her  hand 
upon  the  door,  "  you  said  a  little  while  ago 
that  you  were  going  to  ask  me  a  question." 

"So  I  did,"  said  Garth,  smiling,  "and 
you  answered  it !  " 

He  escorted  her  to  the  foot  of  the  gar- 
ret-stairs, and  then  returned  with  measured 
steps  to  the  studio.  After  sitting  inactive 
for  a  few  moments  before  the  easel,  he  lazily 
took  up  his  palette  and  mixed  some  dark- 
brown  paint  upon  it,  whistling  softly  to 
himself  the  while,  and  tapping  his  foot  upon 
the  floor.  When  the  tint  was  ready  he 
dipped  his  brush  into  it,  and  prepared  to 
apply  it  to  a  certain  part  of  the  canvas. 

"  It  may  be  against  history,  Lady  Elea- 
nor," he  muttered,  between  a  smile  and  a 
frown,  "  but  off  comes  your  head  neverthe- 
less." 


CURRENT   OPINION. 


115 


A  noise  as  of  some  one  running  up- 
stairs caused  him,  however,  to  suspend  the 
act  of  execution.  It  was  Madge ;  she 
burst  into  the  room,  all  breathless  and 
sparkling. 

"O,  my  Garth!  —  dinner  is  ready — but 
O,  Garth,  dear,  isn't  it  splendid !  " 

He  got  up,  letting  brush  and  palette  fall 
to  the  floor.  She  was  flushed  and  joyous, 
and  her  dark  eyes  were  glistening  with  happy 
tears.  She  stood  before  him  with  her  hands 
clasped,  full  of  light,  life,  and  eagerness,  yet 
touched  with  a  shade  of  maidenly  timidity 
that  rendered  her  quite  irresistible. 

Garth  tried  to  say  something,  but  no 
words  came ;  all  at  once  he  took  her  in  his 
arms. 


"  Uncle  Golightley  has  told  me,"  she 
murmured  on  his  shoulder.  "  O,  Garth, 
think  of  five  thousand  dollars !  and  all  be- 
cause my  portrait  was  in  it !  If  you  had 
left  out  the  picture,  perhaps  he  would  have 
given  more !  My  dear,  darling  boy,  how 
happy  we  shall  be!  But  dinner  is  ready — 
shall  we  go  down  together?  " 

"Yes;  take  me  down  with  you,"  replied 
Garth  in  an  oddly  jocose  tone.  "  Keep  your 
eye  on  me,  Madge.  I'm  not  fit  to  be  trust- 
ed alone  with  five  thousand  dollars  in  my 
pocket." 

"  Oh,  I'll  take  care  of  it  for  you,  sir," 
she  rejoined ;  and  hand  in  hand  the  happy 
lovers  left  the  studio :  so  Lady  Eleanor  was 
reprieved. 


BOOK  V. 
G  E  A  P  P  L  ING. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

CURRENT   OPINION. 

THE  Dauvers'  cottage  was  old-fashioned 
and  rather  small,  but  well  built  and  comfort- 
able, and  as  clean  as  any  in  Holland.  Mrs. 
Danver,  though  chronically  ailing  in  one 
way  or  another,  was  morbidly  neat  in  her 
ways  and  ideas,  and  since  the  death  of  her 
husband  (who,  whatever  his  inventive  gen- 
ius, had  made  no  claims  to  nicety  either  in 
temperament  or  habits),  she  had  ridden  her 
hobby  with  free  rein.  The  rooms  glistened 
with  cleanliness,  and  the  household  furni- 
ture of  all  kinds  was  kept  at  a  nervous  ten- 
sion of  immaculateness  almost  oppressive  to 
behold.  Mrs.  Danver's  infirmities,  though 
they  prevented  her  from  doing  much  work 
herself,  did  not  hinder  her  from  rigorously 
overseeing  the  "help  "  which  she  employed, 
and  which,  thanks  to  the  steady  income 
yielded  by  the  mysterious  "  patent,"  and 
regularly  paid  in  by  Mr.  Cuthbert  Urmson 


as  executor,  she  was  well  able  to  afford.  As 
for  Madge,  it  was  undesirable,  for  many  rea- 
sons, that  she  should  be  bound  to  any  drudg- 
ery whatever.  Her  position  as  Garth's  be- 
trothed wife  required  a  gentleness  of  breeding 
and  a  refinement  of  occupation  which  for- 
tunately the  patent  proceeds  did  not  suffer 
her  altogether  to  lack.  And  it  would  have 
been  a  pity,  in  any  case,  to  have  dimmed  her 
beauty  and  dulled  her  spirits  by  subjection 
to  ignoble  toil. 

It  must  not  be  inferred,  however,  because 
she  allowed  herself  the  enjoyment  of  help 
and  of  a  few  other  luxuries,  that  Mrs.  Dan- 
ver was  a  bad  economist.  The  late  Mr. 
Danver  had,  indeed,  been  rather  an  extrava- 
gant man,  ever  ready  to  borrow  largely  of 
the  future;  but  this  trait  of  his  had  con- 
firmed his  spouse  in  the  opposite  tendency, 
and  now  that  he  was  gone,  she  set  to  work 
to  recoup  herself  in  some  degree  for  the  lav- 
ishness  of  the  past.  She  was  understood  to 
be  well  off,  comparatively  speaking:  the 
more  that  she  made  no  display  of  wealth — 


116 


GAKTH. 


indeed,  rather  affected  a  genteel  -  poverty 
style  of  conversation.  She  had  never  been 
able  to  understand,  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
saying,  why  her  income,  being  derived  from 
a  patent,  did  not  augment  from  year  to  year, 
as  by  all  law  and  precedent  it  should.  Her 
mind  sometimes  misgave  her  whether  Mr. 
Urmson  was  doing  the  best  possible  by  it. 
She  had  made  bold  to  hint  as  much  to  him 
once  in  a  while,  but  he  had  only  smiled,  and 
said  that,  when  the  country  grew  richer,  it 
was  to  be  hoped  she  would  too.  Well,  she 
hoped  so ;  but,  of  course,  her  poor  dead  hus- 
band having  left  all  the  management  in  Mr. 
Urmson's  hands,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done — no,  and,  she  dared  say,  nothing  to  com- 
plain of  either.  Only  it  was  queer,  and  a 
small  increase,  year  to  year,  would  have  been 
very  encouraging. 

Mr.  Urmson  was  a  literary  man,  and  not 
over-robust  at  all  lately,  since  poor  Mrs.  Urm- 
son was  buried,  and  of  course  it  was  but 
natural  he  should  accept  the  reports  of  the 
agents  just  as  they  were  given  in,  not  mak- 
ing any  inquiries  such  as  a  pushing,  active 
business  man  might  have  made — not  without 
results,  who  could  say?  But  she  was  not 
one  to  complain,  unless  for  poor  Maggie's 
sake,  who  had  shown  a  patience  in  waiting 
all  these  years  which,  with  such  a  face  and 
figure  as  hers,  not  the  best  man  in  New 
England  was  woi-th.  And  she  might  have 
the  best  quick  enough  if  she  wanted  him. 
But  no,  none  but  Mr.  Garth ;  and  when  Mr. 
Garth  was  ready,  and  had  sold  pictures 
enough,  why,  Mrs.  Danver  supposed  that,  if 
poor  Maggie  was  not  grown  old  and  dead  by 
that  time,  there  might  be  a  wedding.  And 
she  did  not  complain,  only  if  that  was  the 
way  it  was  going  to  be,  why,  that  was  all 
about  it. 

Thus  Mrs.  Danver,  with  a  gradually  ris- 
ing intonation.  But  poor  Maggie,  despite 
the  proffered  facilities  for  being  dispirited, 
had  got  along  remarkably  well.  Partly  by 
good  luck,  partly  through  her  connection 
with  the  Urmsons,  but  more  than  all  by 
dint  of  the  force,  acuteness,  and  tact  of  her 
character,  she  had  gained  a  sort  of  ascen- 
dency in  tlie  village.  The  foolish  gossip 
that  had  been  current  about  her  a  few  years 
previous  had  gradually  died  away ;  though 


no  one  could  boast  of  being  in  her  confi- 
dence, yet  she  repelled  no  one,  and  no  one 
could  prove  any  harm  against  her ;  and  mere 
surmise,  however  plausible,  can  never,  in 
the  long-run,  make  head  against  palpable 
good  report.  During  Garth's  long  absence 
abroad  her  name  had  grown  to  be  almost  a 
household  word  among  the  dwellers  in 
Urmsworth,  and  a  flavor  of  romance  at- 
tached to  her,  as  if  she  were  a  merrier  sort 
of  Evangeline.  She  charmed  mankind ; 
and  her  betrothal  and  demure  discretion 
healed  the  jealousies  of  her  own  sex.  She 
had  great  mental  as  well  as  physical  activ- 
ity, and  was  forever  busy  about  something. 
She  acquired  solid  repute  by  teaching  a 
Sunday-school  twice  a  week,  under  favor  of 
old  Parson  Graeme,  who  had  never  wavered 
from  his  early  allegiance  to  her ;  and  she 
insensibly  took  the  lead  in  all  dances,  pic- 
nics, boating  expeditions,  sleighing  and 
skating  parties,  that  came  off  in  the  Urms- 
worth neighborhood;  On  such  occasions 
she  overflowed  with  life,  laughter,  and 
happy  suggestion.  The  people  were  proud 
of  her ;  and  if  she  was  something  of  an 
enigma,  the  more  of  such  enigmas  the  better 
for  the  world's  weal ! 

Therefore  Garth,  when  he  returned  home 
at  last,  was  rather  begrudged  the  possession 
of  her,  especially  as  he  was  found  to  hold 
aloof  from  village  merry-makings,  with- 
drawing himself,  and  Madge,  of  course, 
with  him,  into  the  seclusion  of  his  studio  or 
of  the  forest.  Nor  was  his  unpopularity 
amended  by  the  continued  delay  in  the  an- 
ticipated nuptials,  to  which  every  Urms- 
worthian  had  been  looking  forward  with 
much  interest.  The  affair  was  canvassed 
among  the  astute  and  honest  villagers,  and 
great  sympathy  was  felt  for  the  Danvers. 
Of  course,  no  one  was  called  on  to  interfere, 
and  people  must  manage  their  own  business ; 
but  that  a  girl  like  Madge  Danver  should  be 
kept  on  tenter-hooks,  merely  because  Garth 
Urmson  had  got  back  from  Europe  with 
some  grand  notions  in  his  head,  was  simply 
a  sin  and  a  shame.  If  he  thought  himself 
too  good  for  her,  why  didn't  he  step  out 
of  the  way  and  give  some  honest  fellow  a 
chance?  Why,  there  was  that  chap  Sam 
Kineo,  whom  nobody  had  seen  for  ten  year?, 


CURRENT   OPINION. 


117 


but  who  was  believed  to  be  doing  well  some- 
where— he  would  have  married  her,  and  had 
half  a  dozen  children  by  this  time,  if  the 
Urmsons  hadn't  clubbed  together  to  get 
him  out  of  the  neighborhood.  It  was  a 
high-handed  business  altogether. 

Thus  the  villagers.  The  sudden  appear- 
ance in  their  midst,  however,  of  Golightley 
Urmson  and  the  two  ladies  turned  the  cur- 
rent of  discourse  in  a  new  direction.  Go- 
lightley was  generally  approved  of  from  the 
beginning.  It  was  remembered  that  he  had 
been  an  intelligent  and  affable  youth,  and 
that  his  father,  the  old  captain,  had  been 
very  harsh  and  severe  with  him,  and  inordi- 
nately indulgent  toward  his  half-brother, 
Cuthbert.  He  had  finally  obtained  leave  to 
go  abroad,  where  he  had  evidently  amassed 
an  enormous  fortune,  and  was  now  come 
home  to  spend  it  for  the  benefit  of  his  old 
townspeople,  whom  he  had  not  in  all  these 
years  once  forgotten.  Golightley  Urmson 
was  a  philanthropist,  with  the  means  to 
carry  his  philanthropy  into  effect.  He 
would  build  them  a  new  grand  hotel,  he 
would  erect  the  long-talked-of  mills  and 
mill-dams,  he  would  endow  the  poorhouse, 
establish  a  library,  and  drain  the  great 
meadows  below  the  lake.  It  was  to  be 
hoped  that  he  would  assume  his  proper 
position  as  master  of  Urmhurst — a  position 
which  was  now  suspected  to  have  been  his 
from  the  first,  though  he  had  consented  to 
forego  it  in  favor  of  his  half-brother.  Cuth- 
bert Urmson  was  very  well  in  his  way,  but 
he  was  getting  old  and  infirm,  was  a  recluse 
and  a  student,  out  of  accord  with  the  spirit 
of  his  countrymen  and  of  the  times,  and,  in 
in  short,  by  no  means  the  person  to  occupy 
the  most  prominent  position  in  the  county. 
Garth,  with  his  artistic  follies,  was,  of  course, 
out  of  the  question  entirely ;  whereas  Go- 
lightley, with  his  knowledge  of  the  world, 
affluence,  and  energy,  might  easily  aspire  to 
the  State  Legislature,  and  even  to  Congress, 
where  he  might  impress  upon  the  country 
the  merits  of  Urmsworth,  its  wants  and  its 
wrongs.  Or,  if  he  preferred  it,  it  would  be 
an  easy  matter  to  raise  so  prominent  a  per- 
sonage to  the  position  of  most  honor  and 
authority  in  his  own  State  ;  and  as  Governor 
Urmson,  of  New  Hampshire,  his  name,  with 


that  of  his  birthplace,  would  go  down  with 

ever-increasing  glory  to  remote  posterity. 

It  was  a  splendid  dream,  although  inspired 

by  somewhat  less  than,  a  full  knowledge  of 

1  the  past  life,  opinions,  position,  prospects, 

,  and  desires,   of  the  individual    principally 

i  concerned,    and   therefore    not    certain   to 

j  be  prophetic.     Meanwhile,  as  I  have  said, 

it  created  a  new  subject  for  gossip. 

As  for  the  two  ladies,  opinion  concern- 
ing them  was  suspended  for  the  present,  but 
they  were  watched  with  curiosity,  and  when 
they  took  up  their  abode  with  Mrs.  Danver, 
a  great  deal  of  casuistry  was  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  problem  why  they  had  chosen 
her  house  in  preference  to  any  other.  Mrs. 
Danver  herself  was  sounded  by  her  friends 
upon  the  subject,  but,  inasmuch  as  the  only 
reason  she  could  have  given  was  that  Par- 
son Graeme  had  recommended  her  to  the 
ladies,  she  very  wisely  shook  her  head  and 
shut  her  mouth,  thereby  intimating  that 
there  was  a  mystery  in  the  affair,  which 
nothing  should  induce  her  to  reveal.  This 
reticence  on  her  part  had  one  good  effect, 
for  which  the  ladies,  had  they  known  any- 
thing about  it,  would  probably  have  been 
thankful.  It  got  Mrs.  Danver  in  the  habit 
of  keeping  to  herself  such  information  with 
regard  to  her  boarders  as  chance  from  time 
to  time  threw  in  her  way  :  and  thus  it  hap- 
pened that  the  curiosity  of  Urmsworth  so- 
ciety as  to  a  purely  imaginary  question 
created  a  barrier  against  itself  in  matters  of 
actual  import. 

Mrs.  Tenterden  and  Miss  Golightley  oc- 
cupied two  snug  and  cozy  rooms  on  the  up- 
per floor  of  the  little  cottage,  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  passage-way,  and  they  also  had 
undisputed  monopoly  of  the  parlor  when- 
ever they  wished  it.  Mrs.  Danver's  parlor, 
boudoir,  and  dining-saloon  were,  and  had 
always  been,  comprised  within  the  four 
walls  of  her  kitchen,  the  "  best  room  " 
having  been  locked  up,  as  a  rule,  and  only 
opened  on  high  days  and  holidays,  when 
the  ancient  newness  of  its  smell  and  aspect, 
the  immitigable  stiffness  of  its  chairs  and 
sofa,  the  gilded  glitter  of  its  mantel-orna- 
ments, and  the  unsunned  brilliance  of  its 
carpet,  were  enough,  without  the  aid  of  the 
hair-picture  of  a  tomb  and  a  weeping-willow 


118 


GARTH. 


which  hung  over  the  fireplace,  to  frighten 
away  any  ordinary  intruder.  When  the  la- 
dies were  first  introduced  to  this  virgin 
grandeur,  and  informed  that  it  was  at  their 
disposal,  Mrs.  Tenterden  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  Mrs. 
Danver ;  while  Miss  Golightley,  with  a  per- 
fectly grave  face,  walked  across  the  room 
and  back  once,  and  said  that  it  was  very 
nice,  but  that  they  had  not  been  accustomed 
to  that  sort  of  thing,  and  would  probably 
confine  themselves  to  their  bedchambers. 
u  But  you  must  let  us  dine  with  you  in  the 
kitchen,"  said  Mrs.  Tenterden,  who  had 
now  recovered  her  composure,  and  was 
wiping  her  eyes  ;  "  we  must  dine  with  you 
and  Margaret  in  that  lovely  clean  kitchen ;  " 
and  Mrs.  Danver,  who  had  been  in  doubt 
whether  or  not  to  be  offended  about  her 
parlor,  decided  not  to  be,  and  replied,  with 
one  of  her  hungry,  melancholy,  stiff-moving 
smiles,  that  she  should  be  quite  pleased  to 
have  the  ladies  take  their  meals  with  her 
and  Maggie,  if  they  pleased  to  do  so ;  and 
thus  harmony  was  established.  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden, however,  had  an  incorrigible  habit 
of  laughing  at  the  most  inopportune  mo- 
ments, merely  because  something  happened 
to  tickle  her  sense  of  the  ludicrous ;  and,  as 
Miss  Golightley  often  told  her,  it  was  im- 
possible, under  such  circumstances,  to  count 
upon  any  one's  good-will  for  ten  minutes 
together.  But  Mrs.  Tenterden,  as  a  sort  of 
counterpoise  to  this  bad  habit,  could  never 
be  persuaded  that  her  laughing  hurt  the 
feelings  of  anybody ;  and  the  genuineness  of 
this,  her  conviction,  often  impressed  itself 
on  those  she  laughed  at,  and  made  them 
grin  and  bear  it  more  good-humoredly  than 
they  themselves  would  have  believed  pos- 
sible. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

FAITHFTJL     ENEMIES. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  visit  to  the  studio, 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  in  her  morning-gown,  and 
with  her  little  bag  of  tatting  in  her  hand, 
entered  Miss  Elinor's  room.  That  young 
lady  was  sitting  in  a  large  horse-hair-covered 


rocking-chair  by  the  window,  her  violin 
and  bow  lying  idle  in  her  lap,  her  mouth 
very  resolute,  and  her  eyes  very  open,  a» 
was  her  way  in  reverie.  "When  the  door 
opened,  she  set  the  chair  in  motion  with 
her  foot,  and  handled  her  violin. 

"Daughter,"  began  the  elder  lady  (for 
they  mothered  and  daughtered  each  otheri 
though  in  reality  owning  no  such  relation- 
ship), "  I  have  some  news  at  last.  Mar- 
garet tells  me  they're  going  to  have  a  picnic 
somewhere  up  in  the  woods  to-morrow,  and 
wants  us  to  come.  This  lovely  weather — 
they  call  it  Indian  summer,  you  know.  Go- 
liglitley  and  all  of  them  seem  to  be  going," 
continued  she,  sitting  sumptuously  down, 
and  proceeding  to  open  her  tatting-bag. 

Miss  Elinor  put  on  a  very  cold  and  un- 
interested expression,  and  only  said  : 

"  Well,  what  did  you  tell  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  just  said  I'd  speak  to  you,  of 
course — it's  nothing  to  me,"  replied  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  in  flat  defiance  of  what  she  knew 
to  be  the  truth.  "  Margaret  says  that  be- 
fore young  Mr.  Garth  went  to  college  there 
used  to  be  a  picnic  regularly  every  Michael- 
mas, and  that  old  Mr.  Graeme,  the  minister 
(think  of  that  man  being  ninety-five  years 
old,  dear  ;  I  declare  he  looks  as  if  he'd  out- 
live poor  Mr.  Urmson  now) — that  he  used  to 
manage  them,  you  know.  But  lately  they 
have  been  falling  off,  and  I  think  she  said 
this  was  the  first  one  young  Mr.  Garth 
would  have  been  to  for  ten  or  twelve  years. 
He  was  in  college,  you  see,  and  afterward  in 
Europe." 

Miss  Elinor  took  up  her  bow,  and  let  it 
wander  lightly  over  the  strings. 

"  Young  Mr.  Garth  is  going,  then,  I  sup- 
pose ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  indeed,  since  Margaret's  to 
be  there,"  returned  Mrs.  Tenterden,  with  a 
genial  little  laugh.  "He  may  be  going  to 
paint  a  picture  of  us  all.  Nellie,  did  you 
know  that  Golightley  had  bought  that 
picture — that  shooting-scene  of  his?  Five 
thousand  dollars.  Splendid,  isn't  it,  for  the 
young  man  ?  I  declare,  though — such  a 
thing  as  that — it  would  give  me  the  night- 
mare !  I  can't  think  what  Golightley  bought 
it  for — he  has  such  a  fine  taste  for  all  that 
sort  of  things  you  know ;  but  I  tell  him," 


FAITHFUL  ENEMIES. 


119 


she  went  on,  laughing — "  I  tell  him  I  believe 
he  only  wants  that  portrait  in  it  of  Margaret ; 
and  he  says  he  does — confesses  it.  I  told  him 
I  didn't  know  what  you'd  say  to  that,  or  Mr. 
Garth  either.  I  must  say,  though, "added  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  more  soberly,  "  the  portrait's  the 
best  thing  in  the  picture— in  fact,  it  looks  to 
me  as  if  it  didn't  belong  there,  somehow." 

"  It  isn't  supposed  to  belong  there,"  said 
Miss  Elinor,  who  had  already  heard  from 
Madge  the  newa  of  Garth's  backsliding; 
"  but  young  Mr.  Garth  is  not  such  a  fool  as 
to  let  art  stand  in  the  way  of  money ;  he's 
like  all  other  Yankees,  I  suppose.  Only  I 
do  wish  he'd  leave  out  the  art  altogether ; 
not  add  insult  to  injury !  " 

"  "Why,  how  uncharitable  you  are,  daugh- 
ter! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tenterden,  reproach- 
fully. "I'm  sure — this  wild  idea  of  yours 
about  playing  and  singing  in  public,  and  I 
don't  know  what  all ! — why  shouldn't  the 
poor  young  man  sell  his  pictures  as  well!  " 

Miss  Elinor  executed  a  spasm  of  refined 
contempt  upon  her  violin. 

"  Certainly  the  poor  young  man  may  do 
as  he  likes ;  only  if  I  find  him  disagreeable — 
How  would  you  like  me  to  do  my  playing 
and  singing  in  ballet-costume  ?  " 

"  "Well,  I  think  in  my  heart,  daughter  !  " 
cried  Mrs.  Tenterden,  scandalized,  but  laugh- 
ing in  spite  of  herself.  "  Nellie,  how  can 
you  ? " 

"If  it  brought  me  five  thousand  dollars, 
who  could  blame  me  ?  I  can  tell  young  Mr. 
Garth  one  thing,  though,"  added  she,  sitting 
erect  in  her  chair  and  growing  pink  and 
haughty;  "when  I  dress  as  a  ballet-girl  I'll 
throw  away  my  violin  and  my  voice,  and 
dance  as  a  ballet-girl  too.  I  reverence  my 
art ;  but  he — may  do  what  he  pleases  with 
his,  of  course  ;  "  and  she  set  herself  rocking 
again,  pale  as  before. 

Mrs.  Tenterden  was  not  enough  convers- 
ant either  with  the  principles  of  art  in  the 
abstract  or  with  the  merits  of  this  particular 
case  to  understand  the  analogy ;  neverthe- 
less, and  though  she  had  been  unable  to  ap- 
preciate Garth's  picture  or  to  make  much 
out  of  himself,  she  was  never  without  a 
word  for  the  down-trodden. 

"Besides,  daughter,"  she  began,  e.ter 
some  meditative  tatting,  "  you  know  they're 


so  poor.  Here  was  Margaret  telling  mo  that 
she  and  Mr.  Garth  couldn't  be  married  all 
these  years  because  they  had  no  money,  but 
that,  since  he  was  to  have  five  thousand  dol- 
lars for  his  picture,  they  would  be,  immedi- 
ately, and  go  to  Europe  ;  and  the  dear  child 
seemed  to  think  it  was  boundless  wealth.  I 
declare,  it  was  quite  touching." 

"Oh!"  murmured  Elinor  abstractedly, 
gazing  out  of  the  window — "  oh !  " 

"  I  must  say,  though,"  resumed  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden, after  a  pause,  "  I  can't  think  where 
all  the  money  goes  to.  I'm  sure  Golightley, 
when  we  first  became  acquainted  with  him, 
was  always  saying  how  poor  he  was — though 
there  was  plenty  of  money  in  the  family — 
because  he  was  giving  away  three-fourths  of 
his  share  of  the  income  every  year  to  sup- 
port his  nephew  and  his  brother  Cuthbert, 
and  keep  up  the  honor  of  the  house  as  he 
called  it.  But,  for  all  I  see,  Cuthbert  has 
been  poorer  than  Golightley.  One  would 
suppose  they  would  be — Mr.  Urmson  and 
his  son  would  be — very  well  off  now  at  any 
rate,  because,  since  Golightley  has  made  this 
large  fortune  of  his  own,  of  course  he  would 
give  up  t^e  whole  of  the  other  fortune  to 
them.  Seems  as  if  the  money  just  vanished 
away,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  It's  none  of  our  business,"  returned 
Elinor,  coldly;  "it's  enough  to  know  that 
your  brother  has  supported  them  for  twenty- 
five  years." 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  don't  mean  that  they  haven't 
done  all  right  about  it,"  exclaimed  charitable 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  "  only  it  seems  so  queer. 
That  young  Mr.  Garth  doesn't  look  at  all 
dissipated,  or  anything  of  that  kind ;  that 
can't  be  the  matter.  Indeed,  from  what 
Margaret  said,  I  should  think  he  had  rather 
too  little — spirit,  you  know.  However,  it's 
none  of  our  business,  true  enough." 

A  considerable  silence  followed,  during 
which  Elinor  drew  some  airy  arabesques  of 
melody  from  her  tempered  instrument.  The 
elder  lady,  who  cherished  good-natured  senti- 
ments toward  music,  serenely  listened  for  a 
while,  but  at  length  interposed  between 
two  bars. 

"  Golightley  has  certainly  been  very  gen- 
erous, hasn't  he  ?  Seems  to  show  the  old 
Golightley  blood  in  that,"  she  said,  with 


120 


GAKTH. 


complacent  pride.  "  But  what  a  fine  face 
Mr.  Cuthbert  Urmson  has,  Nellie !  He  doesn't 
look  to  me  at  all  the  sort  of  man  would  con- 
sent to  be  dependent  on  anybody,  nor  his 
son  either.  But  I  suppose  the  fact  is,  the 
poor  man  has  no  health  and  strength,  and 
can't  go  into  enterprises  and  speculations 
like  Golightley.  He  looks  as  if  he  suffered  a 
great  deal  of  pain,  though  his  manner,  you 
know,  is  so  cheerful.  I  wish  he'd  let  me 
give  him  some  of  my  medicine." 

"I've  learned  not  to  depend  on  faces," 
observed  Miss  Golightley.  "I  never  saw  a 
man's  face  I  liked  more  than  Mr.  Urmson's, 
and  I  liked  even  his  son's  pretty  well  after 
— a  little  talk  we  had  that  day  in  the  studio. 
So  far  as  appearance  goes,  I  should  certainly 
have  thought  it  was  they  who  supported 
your  brother,  rather  than  he  them.  But  the 
more  we  find  out  about  them,  the  more  con- 
temptible they  seem  to  be — at  least  Mr. 
Garth  Urmson.  I  wish  we  had  never  come 
to  this  place." 

"Mercy,  child!  they  are  very  pleasant 
people,  I'm  sure,  and  related  to  us  besides. 
And  I  must  say  I'm  quite  captivated  with 
Margaret.  That  young  man  is  certainly  very 
fortunate  in  having  such  a  beautiful  creature 
attached  to  him." 

"  More  fortunate  than  he  deserves,"  said 
Elinor ;  "  I  wish  she  would  marry  some  one 
else." 

"  "Wellr  Nellie,  what  will  you  say  next, 
I'm  sure !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tenterden,  laugh- 
ing. "  Whom  else  should  she  marry,  dear  ? " 

"  Mother,"  said  Elinor,  after  some  mo- 
ments' pause,  the  transparent  pink  again 
stealing  into  her  grave  face,  "one  reason 
why  I  have  learned  to  distrust  people's  looks 
is  because  of  your  brother.  When  I  first 
saw  him,  I  couldn't  help  believing  him  false 
and  mean;  and  even  now,  though  I  know 
how  good  and  noble  he  really  is,  I  cannot 
trust  him  when  I'm  face  to  face  with  him  or 
hearing  him  speak,  but  only  when  he's  out 
of  the  way.  I  can't  reconcile  what  he  seems 
with  what  he  is  and  does.  If  he  could  ex- 
change heads  with  his  brother  Cuthbert,  it 
would  be  just  right  for  both  of  them." 

"  Well,  Nellie,  what  a  scandalous  way  to 
talk  of  poor  Golightley !  "  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Tentorden,  with  an  imperfect  effort  to  be 


J  serious.     "  Why,  I  always  thought  he  was 

i  very  good-looking,  and  I'm  sure  he  thinks 

;  so.    Well,  my  dear,  what  made  you  let  him 

ask  you  to  marry  him  if  you  can't  bear  the 

sight  of  him,  poor  man  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  prevented  it  if  I  could. 
I  don't  think  he  asked  me  because  he  loved 
me,"  said  Elinor  in  a  low  voice.  "  And  I 
told  him  I  didn't  love  him." 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  daughter,  if  he  didn't 
love  you,  why  should  he  ask  yon  ?  It  wasn't 
till  after  Mr.  Tenterden  lost  all  his  money 
that  he  made  you  the  offer :  so  it  couldn't 
have  been  for  your  fortune." 

"Do  you  suppose  I  think  him  capable  of 
so  paltry  a  trick  as  that  ?  "  said  Elinor,  with 
indignation.  "  You  do  not  know  half  how 
noble  he  is  yourself.  He  asked  me  to  marry  • 
him  because  we  had  lost  our  fortune,  and  Mr. 
Tenterden  had  helped  him  when  he  was  poor, 
and  he  saw  that  to  marry  me  would  be  the 
best  way  to  repay  his  obligations.  He  doesn't 
love  me.  How  should  he?  I  know  how 
disagreeable  I  am ;  and,  besides,  I'm  young 
enough  to  be  his  daughter.  I  ought  to  care 
for  him.  I  despise  myself  for  not  caring  for 
him,  and  that  only  makes  it  worse.  I  hard- 
ly know  sometimes  whether  I  am  angry  with 
myself  or  with  him.  I  hoped  I  should  get 
used  to  him  in  time  by  thinking  how  gener- 
ous he  was  ;  but  I  believe  his  being  so  gener- 
ous is  one  reason  why  I — can't."  Her  mouth 
quivered  a  little. 

"  Ah,  let  me  tell  you,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  shaking  her  head  and  laugh- 
ing wisely,  "  men  don't  marry  penniless  girls 
whom  they  don't  love  just  to  make  them 
rich:  don't  you  believe  it!  not  Golightley 
nor  the  best  of  them.  What  makes  you 
imagine  he  don't  care  for  you?  You  should 
hear  the  way  he  speaks  of  you  to  other 
people !  Marry  you  to  make  you  rich  ?  not 
a  bit  of  it !  He  waited  till  he  was  rich  be- 
fore asking  you  to  marry  him.  As  to  grati- 
tude or  obligations,  I,  for  my  part,  don't 
know  of  any.  John  let  him  have  a  thousand 
pounds — I  think  it  was  about  a  fortnight  be- 
fore our  robbery — and  Golightley  paid  it 
back  in  a  week ;  that's  all  about  that.  It 
may  have  happened  to  turn  the  scale  of  the 
speculation,  or  whatever  it  was,  that  Go- 
|  lightley  made  his  tortune  by ;  but  that  was 


FAITHFUL  ENEMIES. 


121 


just  as  it  happened,  you  know.  But  you 
are  such  a  strange  girl,  Nellie  Golightley.  I 
declare  it  seems  sometimes  as  if  you  hadn't  a 
bit  of  heart,  or  didn't  believe  anybody  else 
had  any.  Young  ladies  weren't  so  in  my 
time — mercy!  " 

Miss  Elinor  drew  down  the  corners  of 
her  mouth  in  a  cynical  smile,  picking  at  the 
strings  of  her  violin  with  her  finger-tips. 
"  At  least  you  can't  say  I  ever  pretended  to 
have  a  heart,"  she  remarked  at  length.  "  I 
don't  pretend  to  have  one,  and  I  don't  want 
any  one  to  think  I  have.  If  your  brother 
ever  asks  me  to  marry  him  again,  I  shall  tell 
him  that ;  and  then  if  he  wants  to  have  me, 
since  I  never  can  love  any  one,  it  would  be 
better  (for  me  at  least)  to  marry  him  than 
any  one  else.  He  might  have  a  bad  time  of 
it,  but  it  would  be-all  the  same  to  me,  not 
having  any  heart ;  1  should  be  as  happy  as 
head  could  wish.  Very  amusing,  neither  of 
us  loving  the  other,  and  yet  marrying  on 
general  principles,  as  it  were  !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  choose  to  talk  that 
way !  "  returned  Mrs.  Tenterden,  a  little  pro- 
voked at  this  young-lady-like  perverseness. 
"  As  to  a  heart,  I  believe  nothing  would  make 
you  confess  you  had  one,  not  if  you  were 
dying  of  it  that  minute.  Of  coarse  I,  for 
my  part,  don't  want  you  married,  my  dear. 
But  I  am  an  old  woman,  and  shall  probably 
die  soon ;  and  what's  to  become  of  you  then 
I  don't  see !  " 

"  When  you  are  angry  with  me,  you  al- 
ways revenge  yourself  by  talking  about  dy- 
ing; but,  now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  se- 
cret that  will  put  you  in  good-humor.  There 
is  one  beloved  object  in  the  world — not  your 
brother  —  which  makes  me  feel  I  have  a 
heart,  which  I  love,  which  t  want  to  marry, 
and  which  will  bring  me  a  fortune,  and 
which  I  should  be  broken-hearted  to  be 
parted  from — even  I." 

'•My  good  fathers,  Nellie!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  dropping  her  tatting  in  her 
lap.  "  Whom  do  you  mean,  child  ?  tell  me, 
quick !  Not  surely  that — that  young  Mr. 
Selwyn  ? " 

''  Young  Mr.  Selwyn !  I  mean  my  violin 
— my  own  sweet  little  violin,"  said  Elinor, 
laying  the  graceful  instrument  against  her 
cheek,  with  a  little  laugh.  "  My  violin  and 


I  can  be  happy  together,  in  spite  of  every- 
body— can't  we,  dear  2  "  she  added,  address- 
ing it  with  a  sad,  tender  playfulness. 

Mrs.  Tenterden  was  fairly  surprised,  and 
driven  back  on  her  good-nature.  "  You  do 
beat  all  I  ever  saw,  Nellie  Golightley,"  she 
declared,  with  a  sigh.  "I  can't  make  you 
out.  I  don't  know  at  this  minute  whether, 
if  Golightley  asked  you  to  marry  him'  again 
to-morrow,  you'd  say  yes  or  no." 

"  Well,  now,  I'll  tell  you  another  secret," 
said  Elinor,  smiling  faintly,  her  cheek  still 
pressed  against  the  violin.  "  I  think  he 
might  marry  Margaret.  I've  thought  so, 
and  hoped  so,  ever  since  we  first  met  her. 
I'm  sure  he  admires  her,  and  would  love  her 
if  he  didn't  think  I  stood  in  his  way.  They 
would  get  on  together  delightfully.  She  is 
just  the  girl  who  would  enjoy  society  and 
wealth,  and  all  that,  and  he  would  enjoy 
showing  her  off.  If  he  would  give  a  thou- 
sand pounds  merely  to  have  a  portrait,  ho 
would  give  his  whole  fortune,  and  every- 
thing else,  to  have  her.  I  would  certainly 
give  anything,  except  my  violin,  to  see  them 
married.  She  likes  him  a  thousand  times 
better  than  I  ever  could,  already." 

"  Well,  I  do  think  in  my  heart !  "  assev- 
erated the  old  lady,  quite  outdone.  "  Did 
you  know,  my  dear,  that  Margaret  is  en- 
gaged to  marry  Mr.  Urmson,  and  that 
they're  head  and  ears  in  love  with  each 
other,  and  will  be  married  this  winter  ?  To 
hear  you  run  on,  any  one  would  think — 
well ! " 

"  Such  a  person  as  Mr.  Garth  Urmson 
has  showed  himself  to  be,  will  never  be  head 
and  ears  in  love  with  anybody  but  himself," 
rejoined  Miss  Golightley,  with  contemptuous 
emphasis ;  "  and  there  might  be  a  chance 
of  his  becoming  a  better  artist  if  he  didn't 
marry.  And  Margaret  wouldn't  care  for 
him,  I  know,  if  she  realized  what  he  was. 
I  should  think  his  having  kept  her  waiting 
so  long  was  proof  enough  he  cared  nothing 
about  her.  And  then — I  might  be  alone 
with  my  violin — and  you !  "  and,  rising 
quickly,  the  girl  caught  Mrs.  Tenterden  and 
the  violin  in  one  embrace,  and  hid  her  face 
on  the  former's  soft,  ample  shoulder. 

This  method  of  winding  up  discussions, 
and  enforcing  arguments,  has  advantages 


122 


GAETH. 


which  can  never  attach  to  the  dry  pro- 
poundings  of  mere  logic ;  and  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den  attempted  no  further  expostulation.  She 
returned  Elinor's  caress  with  all  her  heart, 
and,  then,  having  picked  her  tatting  from 
the  floor,  and  smoothed  her  collar,  she  re- 
sumed her  placidity. 

"  There's  no  reason,  of  course,  my  dear, 
why  you  should  be  either  married  or  trained 
for  a  concert-performer  just  yet.  What, 
with  the  money  we  got  by  selling  our  fur- 
niture and  things,  and  those  investments 
of  yours  in  Boston,  that  have  never  been 
touched,  you  know,  for  ten  years,  there 
must  be  enough  to  live  along  on,  at  least,  as 
well  as  we  are  doing  now.  By-and-by,  per- 
haps, we  may  be  able  to  move  down  to  Vir- 
ginia, and  be  comfortable.  Then  there's 
Mr.  Selwyn  :  he  may  succeed  in  finding  out 
who  robbed  us,  and  getting  some  of  it  back. 
It  would  be  a  good  joke,  wouldn't  it  ?  "  said 
the  good  lady,  shaking  gently  with  subdued 
chuckling — "  Golightley's  astonishment.  He 
hasn't  an  idea  that  anything's  being  done 
about  it." 

"  I  never  could  understand,"  observed 
Elinor,  meditatively,  "why  Mr.  Selwyn, 
who  seemed  to  he  quite  rich,  should  have 
interested  himself  in  that  affair,  or  why 
your  brother  objected  so  strongly  to  his 
having  anything  to  do  with  it.  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  he  suspected  Mr.  Selwyn  of 
knowing  more  about  the  loss  of  the  money 
than  he  had  any  right  to  know." 

"  Good  gracious,  daughter,  what  an  idea ! 
A  gentleman  like  Mr.  Selwyn !  I  should  as 
soon  think  of  suspecting  Golightley  himself. 
No,  the  truth  is,  my  dear — what  I,  for  my 
part,  think — Golightley  was  just  a  little  bit 
jealous.  Mr.  Selwyn  is  rather  too  hand- 
some and  clever  to  be  a  safe  acquaintance 
of  the  young  lady  one  is  in  love  with.  And, 
what's  more,  I  think  Mr.  Selwyn  was  jealous 
of  Golightley — so  that  was  a  pair  of  them  : 
and,  if  you  must  know  everything,  I  think 
that  had  something  to  do  with  Mr.  Selwyn's 
being  so  obliging  about  managing  our  busi- 
ness for  us,  and  so  anxious  that  Golightley 
shouldn't  be  told.  So  now,  miss,  you  see 
what  you  are  responsible  for !  I  declare  I 
had  quite  a  turn  just  now,  when  you  began 
with  that  nonsense  about  your  violin — I  was 


really  afraid,  for  a  minute,  that  he  had  made 
an  impression." 

A  smile  had  drifted  across  Miss  Elinor's 
face  while  the  other  was  speaking,  but  it 
ended  in  a  half  sigh.  "  I  am  getting  very 
callous  and  bold,  seems  to  me,"  she  said. 
"  I  can  listen  to  talk  about  falling  in  love 
and  marrying  as  if  I  were — I  don't  know 
what.  Heartless  people  must  be  more  or 
less  indelicate,  I  suppose.  Heigho !  Well, 
why  shouldn't  he  have  made  an  impression  ? 
He  was  handsome  and  clever,  with  fearless, 
straightforward  manners  that  I  liked ;  I 
even  liked  the  way  I  heard  him  swear  once. 
Dear  me !  he  is  profane  and  very  dissipated, 
I  suppose ;  and  there's  Mr.  Garth  Urmson, 
with  a  face  like  Beethoven's,  who  never 
drinks  or  swears,  and  is  false  and  mercenary 
to  the  core  ;  and  there  is.  your  poor  brother, 
whose  soul  Heaven  has  made  so  good  and 
noble,  that  there  was  nothing  left  to  keep 
his  body  from  appearing  as  small  and  con- 
temptible as  Mr.  Garth's  character.  There's 
no  such  thing  as  a  Man  in  the  whole  great 
world !  " 

"  Mercy !  there  are  only  too  many  of 
them,  I'm  sure,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tenterden. 

"  If  you  will  show  me  one,  I'll  worship 
him,"  said  Elinor,  in  a  low  voice.  She 
turned  as  she  said  it,  and  gazed  out  of  the 
window  at  the  horizon-line ;  but  in  a  mo- 
ment rested  her  arms  upon  the  window-sill, 
and  laid  her  face  upon  them,  while  Mrs. 
Tenterden  went  on  with  her  tatting  in 
sumptuous  serenity.  What  a  good,  lovable, 
sensible  woman  she  was !  taking  life  as  easi- 
ly as  pale,  vexed  Elinor  took  it  hard. 

"  By-the-way,  my  dear,"  said  she,  re- 
placing her  work  in  the  bag,  and  rising— for 
the  primitive  TTrmsworth  dinner-hour  was 
one  o'clock,  and  it  was  time  to  dress — 
"  about  the  picnic.  You'll  go,  I  suppose !  " 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  me  whether 
I  go  or  not,"  replied  Elinor,  sitting  up  in  her 
chair,  and  setting  it  monotonously  a-rocking 
as  before.  "  It  will  be  disagreeable  to  meet 
those  persons ;  but,  since  we  must  be  here 
all  winter,  that  can't  be  helped,  and  it  will 
be  better  out-doors  than  in." 

Mrs.  Tenterden  laughed  in  her  jolly,  re- 
proachful way.  She  always  laughed  where 
other  people  would  have  compromised  for  a 


BOOTS  AND  EYE-GLASSES. 


123 


smile.  "  I  declare,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed 
to  talk  that  way,  daughter.  "Well,  then,  if 
you  want  to  go,  I  suppose  we  must.  I  told 
Margaret  that  would  probahly  be  the  way, 
though,  of  course,  I  don't  care  anything 
about  it  myself.  You'd  better  be  getting 
ready  for  dinner,  dear."  And  so  she  took 
her  stately,  comfortable  departure. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

BOOTS    AND    EYE-GLASSES. 

THE  next  morning  was  even  warmer 
than  is  usual  in  the  Indian-summer  weather. 
The  atmosphere,  especially  near  the  horizon, 
was  dim  with  tender  haze,  and  the  south- 
westerly breeze,  mild  from  the  fortunate 
courts  of  the  great  Indian  deity  Cantantow- 
wit,  stirred  the  crimson  and  gold  woods  with 
indolent  breathings.  So  impressive  was  the 
dreamy  splendor  of  the  valley,  as  seen  from 
the  southern  windows  of  Urmhurst,  that 
Golightley  was  more  than  once,  in  the  in- 
tervals of  his  toilet,  beguiled  from  his  look- 
ing-glass to  behold  it,  and  he  could  scarcely 
have  paid  it  a  higher  compliment.  The  toilet 
was  with  him  a  religious  ceremony.  He 
was  in  sad  earnest  about  it  always.  The 
aspect  of  the  man  when  newly  risen  from 
repose — if  the  disturbed  grapplings  with 
slumber  which  for  many  months  past  had 
been  his  nightly  portion  could  properly  be 
called  by  that  name — would  scarcely  have 
prepared  us  for  the  gracious  transformation 
brought  about  in  him  by  these  devotional 
exercises.  Could  orthodox  religion  effect 
such  palpable  improvement  in  its  votaries, 
we  might  look  forward  to  a  significant  deep- 
ening of  the  general  piety.  This  toilet  con- 
science of  Golightley's  was  a  typical  trait  in 
him.  So  far  was  he  from  being  a  reckless 
person,  or  indifferent  to  appearances,  that 
he  might  be  suspected  of  sometimes  sacrific- 
ing the  plahi  reality  of  good  to  the  good- 
looking  semblance  thereof.  And  the  nervous 
disquiet  which  in  temperaments  like  his  is 
apt  to  wait  on  such  transactions  may  have 
had  something  to  do  with  his  uneasy  nights. 

His    hair    having    been  duly  anointed, 


parted,  combed,  and  brushed ;  his  triple 
beard  thoroughly  groomed  ;  his  teeth,  hands, 
and  nails,  duly  purified,  perfumed,  and  pol- 
ished ;  the  ample  folds  of  his  neck-cloth  ar- 
tistically composed,  and  a  suitable  waistcoat 
of  figured  satin  selected,  Golightley  next 
turned  his  attention  to  the  question  of  boots. 
There  were  at  least  a  dozen  pairs  to  choose 
from,  all  exquisitely  made  and  in  perfect  re- 
pair, and  it  was  a  noticeable  peculiarity  that 
most  of  them  were  fitted  with  brightly-pol- 
ished steel  spurs.  The  natural  inference 
would  be  that  the  owner  of  such  gear  must 
be  proud  of  his  feet  and  fond  of  riding; 
nevertheless,  the  facts  were  quite  otherwise. 
If  Golightley's  boots  were  his  strong  point, 
it  was  because  ho  knew  his  weak  point  to  be 
his  feet,  and  summoned  every  resource  of 
the  cobbler's  art  to  solve  the  problem  how 
to  make  what  is  flat  and  shapeless  appear 
high-arched  and  shapely. 

The  result  was  very  creditable,  and  prob- 
ably deceived  everybody  except  the  maker 
and  the  wearer ;  the  latter  unfortunate  gen- 
tleman, however,  was  never  at  ease  (either 
literally  or  figuratively)  in  even  his  newest 
boots,  but  constantly  tormented  himself 
with  the  fancy  that  the  fatal  secret  of  his 
instep  had  been  found  out.  The  devil  could 
not  have  been  more  solicitous  about  his 
cloven  hoof  than  was  Golightley  to  disguise 
the  plebeian  ugliness  of  these  wretched  ex- 
tremities. As  to  the  spurs,  they  were  but 
an  additional  device  to  distract  the  observ- 
er's eye,  and  at  the  same  time  to  lend  a  sort 
of  martial  dignity  to  the  tread.  It  was  a 
pathetic  circumstance  that,  among  so  large 
an  assemblage  of  boots  and  shoes,  there 
should  not  have  been  so  much  as  a  single 
pair  of  slippers.  The  worst  of  acting  a 
false  part  before  the  world  is  the  dread 
it  begets  of  ever  dropping  the  mask  for  a 
moment  to  take  breath.  I  will  not  assert 
that  Golightley  Urmson  absolutely  slept  in 
his  boots  lest  he  should  be  found  dead  some 
morning  with  the  secret  revealed  ;  but  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  he  suffered  as  much 
mentally  from  having  them  off  as  he  did 
physically  from  having  them  on ;  and  I  sub- 
mit whether  moral  corns  are  not,  in  the 
long-run,  full  as  unendurable  as  material 
ones. 


124 


GAKTH. 


The  boots  having  been  drawn  on,  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  room  in  them  twice 
or  thrice,  scrutinizing  their  fit  and  general 
appearance.  All  this  time  he  had  been  with- 
out his  eye-glasses ;  he  now  paused  in  front 
of  the  mirror  to  put  them  on,  and  the 
change  for  the  better  which  this  small  addi- 
tion made  in  him  was  almost  startling.  It 
was  like  a  magic  touch,  smoothing  away 
premature  wrinkles,  brightening  the  sallow 
complexion,  lending  vivacity  and  pungency 
to  the  expression,  and  an  aspect  of  refine- 
ment and  prosperity  to  the  whole  man.  Go- 
lightley  stuck  to  his  eye-glasses  with  almost 
as  much  constancy  as  to  his  boots,  and  with 
quite  as  much  reason.  "We  have  already  had 
a  glimpse  of  that  unlucky  squint  of  his ;  but, 
even  had  this  sinister  deformity  been  absent, 
the  glasses  could  hardly  have  been  spared. 
Not  that  his  eyesight  was  infirm ;  but  his 
eyes,  heavy-lidded,  haggard,  with  curious 
little  furrows  surrounding  them  like  a  net- 
work, produced  an  effect  altogether  at  vari- 
ance with  that  which  their  owner  thought 
desirable.  There  was  no  life  in  them,  and 
yet  they  told  tales.  But  the  glasses — al- 
though, as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  could  have 
been  no  more  real  life  in  them  than  in  the 
eyes  —  had  nevertheless  a  sparkling  sem- 
blance of  vitality  which  age  could  not  dim 
nor  emotion  disconcert,  and  which,  if  super- 
ficial, possessed  the  redeeming  quality  of  be- 
ing impenetrable.  They  could  never  droop, 
swerve,  or  falter ;  neither,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, could  they  convey  love,  anger,  nor 
command  ;  but  only  a  very  confident  nature, 
perhaps,  would  deliberately  exchange  a  con- 
dition of  inactive  security  for  the  risky  free- 
dom of  unprotected  activity. 

"When  Golightley  was  quite  ready,  he 
drew  a  long  breath,  straightened  his  shoul- 
ders, stamped  sharply  with  his  foot,  smiled, 
bowed,  and  lightly  kissed  his  finger-tips  to 
the  image  in  the  mirror,  and  turned  to  go 
down-stairs.  His  glance,  however,  happened 
to  light  upon  the  collection  of  time-stained 
trophies  which  in  this,  as  in  most  of  the 
other  rooms,  hung  above  the  fireplace,  and 
he  staid  a  moment  to  look  at  them.  An  old 
horse  -  pistol,  nearly  two  feet  in  length, 
seemed  chiefly  to  attract  his  curiosity,  and 
he  was  on  the  point  of  taking  it  down  to 


examine  it  more  particularly,  when  a  knock 
was  heard  at  the  door,  and  CuthbertV  voice 
summoned  him  to  breakfast. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

TTNFAITHFrL    FRIENDS. 

"By  George,  old  chap,  how  delightful 
all  this  is,  eh?  "  cried  he,  as  arm-in-arm  with 
his  brother  he  entered  the  kitchen,  where 
breakfast  was  set  out.  "  This  country  hush, 
these  exquisite  autumn  tints,  this  air  of 
balm !  Ah,  what  earthly  gold  is  so  precious 
to  the  soul  as  the  yellow  glory  of  that  old 
elm  ?  Old  Urmhurst,  too — the  quaint  old 
rooms  and  furniture  and  customs!  I  begin 
to  think  my  exile's  life  has  been  a  sad  mis- 
take, after  all.  Yes,  you're  a  happier  man 
than  I  am,  old  chap,  because  you're  a  wiser 
man  and  a  better  man — though  I  mean  to 
do  some  good,  if  I  can,  before  I  go  to  chaos. 
— Good-morning,  Kikomis.  By  the  Great 
Spirit,  madam,  these  buckwheat-cakes  are 
light  enough  for  the  happy  hunting-grounds ! 
— By-the-by,  Cuthbert,  isn't  that  venerable 
deadly  weapon  over  my  fireplace  the  identi- 
cal one  which  our  forefathers  used  to  an- 
nihilate their  best  friends  with? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cuthbert ;  "  and  its  por- 
trait is  among  the  others  in  that  intended 
purchase  of  yours  in  the  studio.  Five  thou- 
sand dollars,  I  understand? " 

Golightley  waved  his  fork  deprecatingly. 

"  The  boy  has  genius.  Five  thousand 
dollars  won't  hurt  him ;  oil  the  wheels  a  bit, 
and  get  his  name  up.  By-the-by,  where  is 
he  this  morning?  " 

"  He  has  been  irregular  the  last  day  or 
two;  it  may  be  his  company  that  has  upset 
him.  But  as  to  this  picture — you  had  better 
change  your  mind  about  buying  it." 

Golightley  laughed,  but  he  was  a  little 
puzzled. 

"  Of  course,"  said  he,  "  there  is  no  abso- 
lute value  to  a  work  of  art ;  it's  a  matter  of 
fashion,  scarcity,  whim,  and  so  on.  Now,  I 
honestly  consider  the  picture  worth  the  sum 
I  named,  looking  at  its  merits  of  color  and 
composition  alone ;  but,  to  be  frank  with 
you,  I  shouldn't  be  buying  it  but  for  that — " 


UNFAITHFUL  FRIENDS. 


125 


"  That  portrait  of  our  pretty  friend  Mar- 
garet," Cuthbert  interposed,  quietly.  "  Well, 
it's  precisely  on  account  of  that  portrait  that 
I  say  you'd  better  change  your  mind  about 
buying  the  picture." 

Golightley  knew  something  of  his  broth- 
er's eccentricities,  but  this  took  him  by  sur- 
prise. He  had  expected  that  his  bargain 
with  Garth  would  be  considered  eminently 
creditable  to  both  parties ;  if  it  was  also 
recognized  as  a  splendid  compliment  to 
Madge,  why,  so  much  the  better  all  round ! 
He  thought  Madge  one  of  the  beauties  of  the 
world,  and  was  not  averse  from  ingratiating 
himself  with  her.  That  she  was  soon  to  be 
married  did  not  annoy  him ;  beautiful  wom- 
en had  been  married  ever  since  the  time 
of  Helen  of  Troy ;  and  Helen,  at  least,  had 
not  let  her  marriage  spoil  her  for  the  rest  of 
the  world.  Madge  would  doubtless  create 
a  sensation  in  society  so  soon  as  she  came 
out,  and  Golightley  imagined  a  handsome 
gentleman,  just  past  the  prime  of  youth,  who 
passed  his  long  white  fingers  through  his 
hair  and  replied  to  a  respectful  coterie: 

"  Little  Margaret  ?  Ah,  yes ;  found  her 
in  the  backwoods ;  saw  what  might  be  made 
of  her,  so  set  to  work  and  did  what  I  could. 
By  George !  the  dear  child  got  so  fond  of 
me  that —  "Well,  I  was  obliged  to  marry  her 
off  to  my  nephew  there.  Yes;  ha!  ha! 
Oh,  I  got  him  to  paint  lier  portrait  for  me, 
and  for  a  quiet  man  like  me  that  does  quite 
as  well  as  the  original,  you  know,  and  may 
be  just  a  leetle  bit  better. — You  take  me, 
madam,  I  see.  Ha !  ha  !  " 

If  this  were  not  the  whole  future  to 
which  Golightley  looked  forward  in  his  re- 
lations with  Madge,  at  any  rate  it  came  as 
near  being  so  as  it  suited  his  present  con- 
venience to  own.  Of  course  there  might  be 
unsuspected  elements  involved,  which  would 
claim  consideration  in  due  season.  There 
was  a  great  deal  in  Madge  besides  her  beauty ; 
she  was  very  shrewd  and  intelligent,  ambi- 
tious, and  possessed  of  a  subtile  kind  of  auda- 
city. Moreover,  unless  Golightley's  diagno- 
sis were  at  fault,  she  had,  or  believed  her- 
self to  have,  a  secret  and  particular  lien 
upon  himself.  It  was  not  easy,  therefore,  to 
foretell  how  they  might  ultimately  stand 
toward  each  other;  "and  meanwhile," 


thought  he,  "  let  things  take  their  course  up 
to  a  certain  point,  so  that  I  may  be  freer  to 
act  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  less  apt 
to  compromise  myself  meanwhile." 

But  he  had  not  been  prepared  for  Cuth- 
bert's  objection,  and  he  could  only  conject- 
ure its  probable  upshot.  He  would  have 
liked  to  retort  upon  his  brother  with  some 
neat  epigram,  but  he  could  think  of  none  at 
the  moment,  and,  indeed,  he  seldom  did  him- 
self justice  in  that  quiet,  penetrating  pres- 
ence ;  his  genius  was  rebuked,  as,  it  is  said, 
Mark  Antony's  was  by  Cassar's. 

"  Ah,  Cuthbert,"  said  he,  "  I  sometimes 
think  it's  a  pity  you  are  not  more  ill-natured 
and  cynical  than  you  are ;  you'd  make  such 
a  devilish  good  satirist.  Now,  what  are  you 
up  to  ?  The  only  safe  thing  with  you  is  to 
treat  your  utterances  like  those  of  the  old 
oracles,  and  give  them  any  signification  but 
the  most  ostensible  one." 

u  Well,  expound  what  is  hidden,  if  you 
suspect  anything." 

"  Seriously,  you  know,  my  dear  old  boy, 
I  might  be  a  bit  hurt.  You  forget  that  I'm 
the  lad's  uncle.  I  explained  to  you  the  other 
night  that  since  my  late  business  enterprises 
had  done  so  well,  I  want  the  family  to  enjoy 
the  good  of  it.  You're  not  as  frank  as  I've 
always  been  with  you.  "When  my  affairs 
were  in  suspense,  I  knew  you  felt  the  same 
interest  in  keeping  me  up  as  if  the  need  had 
been  your  own,  and  I  took  what  I  required, 
as  a  brother  should,  frankly  and  freely.  I 
don't  say — I  never  did  say — that  either  one 
of  us  had  a  better  right  to  the  property  than 
the  other.  Blessed  be  the  Great  Spirit, 
that's  a  question  that  need  never  be  entered 
on  now.  I  simply  acted,  as  I  always  wish 
to  act,  like  a  gentleman — a — and  a  brother." 

"  Is  your  meaning  a  hidden  or  an  osten- 
sible one? "  inquired  Cuthbert  at  this  point. 

"It  isn't  doing  me  quite  justice,  you 
know,"  continued  Golightley,  shaking  his 
head,  with  a  somewhat  melancholy  smile, 
but  not  otherwise  noticing  this  interruption. 
"  You'll  never  know — no  one  can  ever  know 
— I  speak  frankly  to  you,  dear  boy,  as  I 
could  to  no  one  else — ever  know  what  a  life 
of  self-abnegation  mine  has  been.  You  don't 
know  how  constantly  you've  been  in  my 
thoughts.  Damn  it,  you  know,  Cuthbert,  I 


126 


GARTH. 


give  religion  and  all  religious  virtues  a  wide 
berth — a  man  like  myself  necessarily  out- 
grows that  sort  of  thing;  but  I  have  a  code, 
and,  frankly,  I  consider  it  none  the  worse 
that  it's  not  dependent  on  superstitious  non- 
sense :  well,  what  I  mean  to  say  is,  a  man 
of  my  principles  could  not  hut  have  the  wel- 
fare of  you  two  in  view  in  whatever  he  did. 
I  was  obliged  to  draw  heavily  sometimes,  I 
dare  say ;  sometimes,  perhaps,  I  didn't  real- 
ize, in  the  absorption  and  excitement  of  the 
moment,  how  comparatively  small  the  in- 
come of  the  estate  really  was;  but  I  never 
hesitated,  because  I  knew  your  interests 
were  as  mine,  and — " 

"  Nikomis,"  said  Cuthbert,  with  the  def- 
erence which  he  invariably  observed  in  his 
intercourse  with  that  dusky  personage,  "  be 
kind  enough  to  give  Mr.  Golightley  some 
more  buckwheats." 

"It  amounts  to  just  this,"  resumed  Go- 
lightley, taking  this  second  interruption  in 
very  good  part,  and  giving  his  long  forefin- 
ger an  expository  up-and-down  movement — 
"just  this  :  I've  had  my  innings,  and  now  I 
want  you  to  take  yours.  I  suppose  you 
won't  deny  that  there's  Urmson  blood  in  all 
of  us  ?  If  I'm  rich,  I've  a  right  to  make  you 
and  Garth  rich  too — and  Mildred  and  Elinor 
into  the  bargain.  And  it  did  me  good  to 
hear  that  Garth  was  a  painter,  because  that 
gave  me  an  avenue,  you  know — " 

Perceiving  that  he  was  understood,  Go- 
lightley threw  up  his  finger  and  continued 
his  breakfast. 

"  But,"  observed  Cuthbert,  after  a  pause, 
"  all  this  does  not  touch  my  objection." 

"See  here:  it  isn't  possible — you  know 
too  much  of  the  world,  my  dear  brother,  if 
not  of  me,  to  suspect  me  of  any  rivalry  ?  It 
would  be  entirely  out  of  the  question.  Of 
course  I'm  not  so  insincere  as  to  deny  that 
were  I  to  enter  the  lists  against  a  boy  like 
Garth,  he  could  have  no  chance  ;  but  it's  out 
of  the  question,  for  twenty  reasons.  The 
girl  is  devilishly  attractive,  but  for  a  man  of 
great  social  experience  like  myself,  the  posi- 
tion of  husband,  of  all  things —  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  Cuthbert,"  continued  Golightley, 
resuming  his  finger,  confidentially,  "  Madge 
Danver — Madge  Danver  is  nothing  but  a 
conntry-girl  to-day ;  but,  unless  all  signs  fail, 


and  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  the  opportuni- 
ties— you  understand — of  fashionable  life 
and  the  world  will  develop  that  country- 
girl  into  a — Circe!  and  a  man  like  myself — 
a  social  Ulysses,  so  to  say— doesn't  entangle 
himself  with  Circes.  I  tell  you  frankly,  my 
dear  Cuthbert,  I  consider  my  nephew  a  bold 
man  :  he  shows  all  the  intrepidity  of  youth ; 
but,  by  George,  if  I  were  in  his  shoes,  I'd 
tie  Circe  to  the  bed-post.  She's  clever 
enough  as  it  is,  and  if  ever  she  comes  to 
know  her  own  power — look  out!  " 

"  What  you  say  doesn't  make  me  any 
less  in  love  with  her  than  I  was  before,"  re- 
turned Cuthbert,  as  he  pensively  stirred  his 
tea ;  "  and  I  cannot  suppose  Garth  to  be 
any  more  open  to  reason  on  such  a  matter 
than  I  am.  However,  I  don't  presume  to 
question  the  accuracy  of  your  insight  any 
more  than  the  reality  of  your  self-abnega- 
tion. But  if  you  happen  to  wish  to  put 
both  beyond  the  possibility  of  cavil,  I  can 
tell  you  how  to  do  it." 

Golightley  stroked  his  mustache  with  the 
tips  of  his  fingers,  and  brought  forward  his 
temple  locks  over  his  ears,  but  would  not 
further  commit  himself. 

"Pay  your  addresses  to  Miss  Margaret 
and  take  her  to  Europe,  and  hand  Garth 
over  to  Miss  Elinor." 

Golightley  paid  the  dryness  of  his  broth- 
er's humor  the  tribute  of  an  arch  "  Ha!  ha!  " 
Then,  still  caressing  gently  various  parts  of 
his  countenance,  he  spoke  dreamily :  "  Nel- 
lie, sweet  Nellie — ah,  there's  the  woman  for 
a  wife,  if  a  wife  there  must  be!  Gentle 
blood,  high  breeding,  culture,  accomplish- 
ments. Nature  full  of  tenderness  and  pas- 
sion, if  you  can  only  arouse  it;  that  cold- 
ness, pride,  high- mightiness,  merely  super- 
ficial yon  know  —  the  feminine  shield  to 
screen  the  feelings  she  dare  not  discover. 
Dear  child,  she  idolizes  me:  too  good  for 
me,  of  course ;  but  I  owe  a  duty  to  her  and 
to  Mildred.  I  owe  them  a  duty  —  I  owe 
them  a  duty.  An  exquisite  reserve  and  re- 
finement about  Nellie." 

"  Her  manner  toward  you  shows  it.  How 
long  have  you  been  betrothed?  " 

"  Eh  ?  Well,  that's  a  matter— that  shows 
the  kind  of  girl  Nellie  is.  I  speak  to  you, 
my  dear  old  chap,  with  perfect  unreserve. 


UNFAITHFUL  FRIENDS. 


127 


I  proposed  to  her,  you  see;  I  proposed  to 
her  the  week  after  poor  old  John  Tenter- 
den's  death.  The  circumstances  were  a  bit 
peculiar.  John  had  just  lost  his  fortune — 
or  rather  he  had  just  lost  Mildred's:  the 
money  was  all  hers.  And  very  singularly, 
I  had  just  been  successful  in  —  a — a  large 
speculation,  which  put  me  in  possession  of 
funds  enough,  as  I  just  said,  to  make  the 
whole  of  us  comfortable  for  the  rest  of  our 
lives.  Well,  of  course,  that  turned  the  tables 
completely  for  Nellie  and  me,  and  she,  with 
her  refined  sensitiveness,  you  know,  felt  it. 
She'd  have  taken  me  at  half  a  word  while  I 
was  poor  and  she  was  rich,  but  as  soon  as  it 
was  the  other  way  she  drew  back.  She  said 
to  herself,  '  He's  acting  from  a  feeling  of 
charity ;  he  sees  we  are  poor  and  alone,  and 
he  asks  ine  to  marry  him  as  being  the  only 
way  of  securing  us  his  wealth  and  protec- 
tion.' So  what  does  she  do  but  refuse  me? 
By  George!  I  was  really — really  touched. 
Such  refinement,  such  high  breeding:  risk- 
ing the  loss  of  me,  you  know,  rather  than 
compromise  the  integrity  of  her  indepen- 
dence. Oh,  it  was  very  fine !  And  she  went 
on  and  talked  about  earning  her  own  living 
as  a  concert  player,  and  all  that;  and,  of 
course,  understanding  just  what  was  in  her 
mind,  I  humored  her,  and  proposed  coming 
over  here  until  business  matters  can  be  ar- 
ranged, and  allowed  the  whole  question  of 
our  marriage  to  hang  fire.  It  suited  me  bet- 
ter, too ;  for  I  shall  have  to  look  about  for 
a  residence,  and  find  out  what  climate  suits 
her  best,  and,  between  you  and  me,  school 
my  mind  to  bid  farewell  to  bachelorhood — 
ha!  ha!  " 

"Insight  is  peace,"  observed  Cuthbert, 
quietly.  "If  all  men  were  like  you,  the 
course  of  true  love  would  run  smooth.  But 
I  fancy  Miss  Elinor  has  her  share  of  insight 
likewise.  Did  she  not  come  pretty  near  the 
truth  in  her  conception  of  your  motives?  " 

"  Well,  you  have  insight  too!  "  admitted 
Golightley,  with  a  smile.  "But  I  do  care 
for  the  dear  girl,  and  she's  of  a  kind  that 
wears  well.  Do  you  know,"  he  added,  after 
a  moment,  "  I  was  really  delighted  when 
poor  John's  fortune  left  him,  and  came,  as 
it  were,  into  my  pocket.  I'll  tell  you  why. 
You  see,  he  was  a  man  totally  devoid  of 


administrative  and  business  ability.  By 
George,  Cuthbert,  that  child  Nellie  under- 
stood ten  times  as  much  about  business  as 
he  did.  Well,  he  had  the  greatest  depend- 
ence on  my  judgment,  and  so  on,  and  wanted 
me  to  manage  everything  for  him,  and  in- 
sisted on  telling  me  what  he  had  done  or 
thought  of  doing,  and  asking  my  advice ; 
and  I  would  say  to  him,  '  John,  I  can't  tako 
the  responsibility  of  managing  all  this  infer- 
nal great  property  of  yours :  I'm  a  man  of 
no  wealth  myself,  and  if  you  were  to  lose 
anything  by  my  advice,  how  could  I  replace 
it?'  'Replace  it!'  says  he;  'if  you'll  as- 
sume the  position  of  my  steward,  I  shall  no 
more  think  of  calling  you  to  account  than  if 
the  money  was  your  own.'  I  used  to  joke 
with  him  about  that,  and,  one  day,  about  a 
month  before  the  crash  came,  said  I,  '  Look 
here,  John,  the  money  belongs  to  Mildred, 
and  she  and  I  are  brother  and  sister ;  what 
do  you  say  to  deeding  the  whole  of  it  over 
to  me,  and  then  all  of  you  coming  to  live 
with  me  as  my  guests  ? '  '  Say  ? '  cries  dear 
old  John,  in  that  hearty  way  of  his,  '  I  say 
come  on!  get  ready  the  deed,  and  Mildred 
and  I  will  sign.'  Well,  I  had  a  great  laugh 
at  him,  you  may  be  sure ;  but  I  thought  then 
it  would  have  been  better  all  round  if  it 
could  have  been  so.  I  never  saw  a  man  so 
worried  about  financial  questions ;  he  was  so 
devilishly  conscientious  about  his  duty,  and 
was  always  afraid  he  w-asn't  doing  the  right 
thing  by  Mildred's  legacy  as  he  called  it. 
Probably  we  didn't  imagine,  at  that  time, 
how  soon  our  mutual  position  would  be  re- 
versed in  earnest.  I've  forgotten  whether 
I  ever  told  you  the  circumstances,  dear 
brother." 

"  I  have  forgotten  it,  if  you  have,"  re- 
turned Cuthbert,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  other's 
face. 

"  The  coincidence  was  so  curious.  From 
some  confused  statements  of  poor  John's  I 
fancy  most  of  his  investments  were  in  South 
American  stock,  which  was  thought  to  be 
very  good  at  that  time.  In  fact,  it  stood  so 
high  that  I  was  tempted  to  dabble  a  little  in 
it  myself.  I  happened  to  hear  of  a  good 
opening,  and  in  I  went  with  every  penny  I 
had.  This  was  not  long  after  that  talk  with 
John.  One  morning  I  went  on  'Change  and 


128 


GARTH. 


found  there  was  a  corner.  Unless.  I  could 
buy  a  thousand  pounds'  worth  within  two 
hours,  I  would  lose  all  I  had ;  if  I  could  buy, 
I  stood  a  chance  of  making  seventy-five  to 
eighty  thousand  sterling.  There  never  had 
been  such  a  grand  opportunity  known.  Well, 
I  hadn't  ten  pounds  ready  money  to  my 
name.  I  thought  a  minute,  and  then  I  went 
straight  to  John.  'Lend  me  a  thousand 
pounds,'  said  I.  You  see,  I  was  certain  of 
not  losing,  and  I  knew  how  glad  dear  John 
would  be  at  having  been  the  means  of  mak- 
ing me  a  millionaire.  He  wrote  a  check  on 
the  spot.  By  George,  Cuthbert,"  exclaimed 
Golightley  at  this  point,  "  he  was  as  good  and 
kind  a  fellow  as  ever  lived  on  this  earth,  and 
if  there  is  a  heaven  he's  in  it  now." 

"  "We  will  assume  there  is  a  heaven,"  said 
Cuthbert.  "  Go  ahead." 

"  Well,  not  to  make  a  long  story  of  it,  I 
used  that  check  just  where  it  was  needed, 
and  a  week  afterward  I  paid  back  to  John 
the  thousand  I  owed  him,  and  had  left  to 
my  credit,  all  told,  just  eighty-three  thou- 
sand pounds  sterling.  I  didn't  tell  him  then ; 
merely  said  I'd  made  a  good  thing,  thanks 
to  him,  and  turned  the  conversation.  I 
meant  to  surprise  him  afterward.  Poor 
John!  five  days  after  that,  we  knew  that 
everything  he  had  was  gone ;  and  what  was 
devilish  strange,  considered  as  a  coincidence, 
I  mean,  was  the  fact  that  it  had  gone  in  the 
same  crisis  that  had  made  me.  I  tell  you, 
Cuthbert,  it  made  me  feel  very  queefly. 
Who  can  tell,  you  know  —  who  can  tell 
whether  some  of  poor  John's  property  may 
not  actually  have  passed  into  my  possession  ? 
I  assure  you,  my  dear  Cnthbert,  I  almost  felt 
as  though  some  infernal  fatality  had  brought 
to  pass,  in  this  way,  precisely  that  'trans- 
fer '  that  we  had  been  joking  about  a  few 
weeks  before.  Poor  John!  he  never  sus- 
pected ;  but  that  notion  crossed  my  mind, 
and  has  bothered  me  ever  since.  Who 
knows?  Somebody  must  have  lost  what  I 
gained,  of  course,  and  why  not  poor  John 
as  well  as  anybody  else?  Well,  it  decided 
me  on  one  point — I  made  a  vow  that  day 
that  I  would  never  gamble  in  stocks  again 
as  long  as  I  lived." 

"  You're  as  wise  after  success  as  before. 
Such  good  luck  could  hardly  be  repeated, 


certainly.  But  do  I  understand  you  to  say 
that  the  amount  of  Mr.  Tenterden's  loss  was 
the  same  as  what  you  won  ?  " 

"  Oh,  much  greater ;  John  must  have  lost 
a  great  deal  over  one  hundred  thousand,  at 
least.  But  the  reason  I've  bored  you  with 
all  this,  dear  boy,  was  so  you  might  compre- 
hend my  attitude  and  feeling  toward  Mildred 
and  Elinor.  I  felt,  by  George,  as  if  all  I  had 
belonged  to  them ;  and  the  thought  that  that 
thousand  pounds  which  John  lent  me  may 
have  been  the  means  of  losing  him  every- 
thing he  had — well,  you  can  imagine,  better 
than  I  can  tell  you,  the  way  it  was  with 
ine." 

"But  Mrs.  Tenterden  seems  to  think 
there  was  a  robbery,  or  some  sort  of  foul 
play." 

"Dear,  good  Mildred!  I've  sometimes 
had  half  a  mind  to  tell  her,  right  out,  that 
if  anybody  is  to  be  apprehended  on  that 
count,  it  might  just  as  well  be  me  as  the 
next  man!  Poor  dear  Mildred!  She's  a 
clever  woman  in  many  ways,  too,  and  de- 
licious all  through ;  but  you  know  how  un- 
reasonable women  will  get  now  and  then ; 
no  doing  anything  with  them.  Yes,  she  had 
some  wild  idea  that  there  had  been  a  con- 
spiracy and  fraud  and  forgery,  and  I  don't 
know  what  not ;  and  it  was  all  I  could  do 
to  prevent  her  setting  a  detective  at  work, 
at  ten  pounds  per  diem,  to  hunt  down  the 
guilty  ones.  Dear,  good  soul  that  she  is ! 
Well,  I  hope  to  make  her  more  comfortable 
than  she  could  ever  have  made  herself." 

Cuthbert  sat  eying  his  brother  in  si- 
lence, and  seemingly  in  a  fit  of  abstraction, 
until  at  last  the  latter,  having  finished  his 
breakfast,  rose  from  the  table  and  turned 
toward  the  fireplace.  There  sat  old  Kiko- 
mis  in  her  corner,  apparently  fast  asleep : 
as  well  she  might  be,  under  stress  of  so  much 
powwow  that  concerned  her  not.  Golight- 
ley, who  had  perhaps  quite  forgotten  her 
existence  for  the  time  being,  stood  scruti- 
nizing her  for  a  moment,  and  then  strolled 
to  the  window. 

"  It  is  nearly  time  to  be  under  way  for 
the  picnic,"  he  remarked.  "  What  can  have 
become  of  that  boy  of  yours,  old  chap  ? " 

"Before  he  comes,"  said  Cuthbert,  rous- 
ing himself  and  passing  his  hand  up  over 


UNCLE   AND   NEPHEW. 


129 


his  forehead  with  a  sigh,  "  I  want  you  to 
listen  to  a  few  more  enigmas  about  the  pict- 
ure." 

"Make hasto,  then,  for  here  he  is!  "  Go- 
lightley exclaimed,  from  the  window-seat. 

In  a  minute  Garth's  forcible  step  was 
heard  through  the  house.  He  flung  open  the 
kitchen-door  abruptly,  and,  seeing  his  father 
seated  alone  at  the  table,  came  forward  with 
his  cap  still  on  his  head,  and  his  face  flushed 
and  frowning.  He  sat  down  opposite  his 
father,  and  pulled  a  letter  out  of  his  pocket, 
the  envelope  of  which  bore  a  foreign  post- 
mark. 

CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

UNCLE     AND     NEPHEW. 

FOR  some  days  Garth  had  been  under  a 
cloud :  a  certain  sweetness  generally  per- 
ceptible beneath  his  most  rugged  manifesta- 
tions had  been  almost  entirely  obscured. 
A  man  of  his  temperament  can  easily  be- 
come the  most  disagreeable  companion  im- 
aginable. Stripped  of  the  silent  kindliness 
and  geniality  which  should  redeem  stern 
features  and  reserved  manners,  ho  soon 
grows  intolerable.  To  attempt  to  conciliate 
him  is  like  putting  your  head  in  a  lion's 
mouth,  and  it  needs  more  than  average 
nerve  and  audacity  to  bully  or  ridicule  him 
into  good-humor.  The  best  part  of  him  at 
such  times  is  his  morbid  tendency  to  keep 
out  of  the  way. 

Since  the  morning  of  the  reception  in  the 
studio,  Garth  had  scarcely  spoken  a  pleasant 
word,  or  done  a  kind  deed.  He  had  moved 
sullenly  about,  his  under  lip  grimly  pursed 
up,  his  rough  brows  lowering  over  his  eyes. 
He  rambled  off  in  the  forest  after  dark,  only 
returning  in  the  small  hours  of  the  night. 
He  had  avoided  his  father,  stared  his  uncle 
out  of  countenance,  and  bad  conducted  him- 
self toward  Madge  with  an  odd  mingling  of 
rudeness  and  impulsive  tenderness.  The 
only  person  he  had  fraternized  witli  was 
Nikomis ;  he  would  sit  opposite  her  in  the 
roomy  fireplace  for  hours  at  a  time,  neither 
speaking  nor  spoken  to.  Her  dusky  com- 
panionship suited  him  better  than  that  of 
any  pale-faces;  and  he  appeared  to  regret 


that  he  had  not  been  born  and  bred  a  full- 
blooded  Indian,  with  a  copper-colored  skin, 
a  wigwam,  and  a  collection  of  smoke-dried 
scalps.  All  this  time  he  touched  neither 
pencil  nor  paint-brush. 

Such  having  been  his  history  of  late,  the 
impetuosity  of  his  manner  as  ho  entered  the 
room  on  this  morning  of  the  picnic  was 
something  of  a  surprise.  Golightley,  who 
had  withdrawn  to  the  window-seat,  escaped 
his  notice  at  first,  and  he  sat  down  opposite 
his  father,  conscious  only  of  him  and  of  the 
letter  in  his  own  hand. 

"  Father,  I  must  read  you  this,"  he  be- 
gan; "it's  from — " 

"Good-morning,  Garth,"  said  Cuthbert, 
in  a  low,  sarcastic  tone,  which  he  used  but 
seldom.  "You  might  take  off  your  cap  and 
say  good-morning  to  your  uncle;  and  per- 
haps, if  you  ask  her  properly,  Nikomis  may 
give  you  some  buckwheats." 

Garth  rose,  putting  the  letter  in  the  side- 
pocket  of  his  coat,  but  leaving  the  envelope 
on  the  table.  He  understood  that  his  father 
had  desired  to  warn  him  that  they  were  not 
alone,  and  he  thanked  him  with  a  look. 

"I  want  no  breakfast,"  said  he;  "be- 
sides, it's  time  we  were  off,  uncle. — Father, 
you're  coming  with  us  ? " 

"No;  I  find  I  must  keep  my  study  to- 
day. Besides,  I  think  I've  eaten  too  many 
buckwheats.  Make  my  excuses  to  the  la- 
dies." 

Garth  paused  a  minute,  eying  his  gray, 
pale,  emaciated,  bright-eyed  father  wist- 
fully. 

"I'll  see  you  this  evening,  then — late," 
he  said  at  length. 

"  Off  with  you,  then,  and  may  the  nuts 
and  grapes  be  plentiful ;  though,  for  my 
part,  I  think  buckwheats  are  a  great  deal 
nicer,  and  quite  as  indigestible.  Good-by." 

The  uncle  and  nephew  accordingly  made 
ready  to  depart,  each  of  them,  perhaps, 
wishing  ho  might  have  had  Cuthbert's  pri- 
vate ear  a  while  longer.  Golightley,  how- 
ever, was  too  affable  to  manifest  any  discon- 
tent: he  gayly  donned  his  hat,  threw  a  pre- 
cautionary shawl  across  his  arm,  glanced  at 
his  spurs,  and  prof essed  himself  eager  for  the 
woods. 

"  Add io,  fratcllo  mio!"  he  cried,  turning 


130 


GARTH. 


on  the  threshold,  and  airily  kissing  the  tips 
of  his  fingers ;  and  so  preceded  Garth  out  of 
the  room. 

Mr.  Urrason  took  up  the  envelope  from 
the  table,  glanced  at  the  handwriting  and 
the  postmark,  and  finally  put  it  in  the  pocket 
of  the  dressing-gown  he  wore,  with  a  sigh. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  old  Indian. 

"  Nikomis,"  said  he  in  a  feeble  and  rather 
dejected  tone,  "I  find  my  pains  are  going  to 
come  on  again.  This  will  be  a  bad  day  for 
me,  I  apprehend.  I've  been  doing  so  well 
for  the  past  week  or  so  that  I  suppose  I  must 
pay  for  it.  Can  you  have  the  medicine 
ready  in  about  half  an  hour?  I  shall  be 
overhead  in  the  study." 

Nikomis  only  grunted  in  reply;  but,  as 
Mr.  Urmson  prepared  to  leave  the  room,  she 
got  up  from  her  seat,  and,  hobbling  after 
him,  threw  open  the  door,  took  him  gently 
but  effectively  under  the  arm,  and  so  moved 
beside  him  down  the  hall,  and  slowly  up  the 
stairs.  Mr.  Urmson's  face  looked  pinched 
and  bloodless,  and  in  mounting  the  stairs  he 
pressed  his  lips  rigidly  together,  and  once  or 
twice  his  eyelids  quivered  and  almost  closed. 
Arrived  at  his  study-door,  however,  he 
turned,  with  something  like  his  customary 
smile,  and  said : 

"  Thank  you,  Nikomis ;  you  are  a  very 
kind  old  lady." 

Meanwhile  Garth  and  Golightley  were 
on  their  way  to  the  village,  the  latter,  ac- 
cording to  his  persistent  custom,  having 
linked  his  own  through  the  former's  unwill- 
ing arm.  Golightley  was  probably  a  be- 
liever in  the  magnetic  influence  of  one  hu- 
man being  upon  another,  and  fancied  that,  if 
he  could  but  contrive  to  handle  his  com- 
panion enough,  he  would  be  thereby  enabled 
to  make  a  corresponding  moral  impression. 
Doubtless  there  are  many  persons  who  do 
enjoy  being  stroked  and  patted,  and  who 
are  more  or  less  liable  to  pur  under  the 
operation ;  but  Garth  never  purred  in  any 
circumstances,  and  was  as  averse  from  being 
touched  indiscriminately  as  though  he  had 
lacked  a  skin.  Nevertheless,  he  had  never 
openly  resented  the  tactics  of  his  uncle,  tow- 
ard whom  he  was,  perhaps,  the  more  dog- 
gedly determined  to  show  liking,  because 
instinctively  holding  him  in  disfavor.  Garth 


had  a  powerful  imagination  and  more  than 
enough  sensibility;  but  along  with  these 
qualities  he  possessed  a  sturdy  rational  fac- 
ulty, which  was  continually  collaring  its 
more  refined  associates,  and  asking  them 
what,  they  were  up  to. 

His  uncle,  as  they  left  the  house,  had 
entered  upon  a  discussion  of  Mr.  TJrm- 
son.  "  Cuthbert,  your  dear  father,  Garth," 
said  he,  "  is  a  man  yon  might  call  avat; 
avdp&v — a  chief  of  men,  as  old  Homer  has 
it,  By  George,  he  is  a  fine  fellow  !  I  really 
knew  him  very  little  before  I  went  to 
Europe ;  he  was  away  himself,  you  know, 
during  most  of  my  big-boyhood  ;  and  being 
so  much  older  than  I,  of  course — and,  then, 
having  different  mothers,  too,  I  suppose — 
we  weren't  so  intimate  as  we  might  have 
been  otherwise.  But  I  always  knew — bless 
you,  I  knew  just  as  well ! — that  there  was 
the  making  of  a  grand  friendship  between  us 
two,  if  ever  we  got  a  fair  show.  But  1'rn 
bound  to  confess  that  there's  more  to  dear 
old  Cuthbert  than  even  I  had  given  him 
credit  for.  I  only  wish  he  didn't  look  so 
confoundedly  like  his  own  ghost  sometimes. 
I  remember  he  used  to  be  rather  delicate, 
and,  of  course,  I  knew  that  years  would 
have  their  way  with  him,  as  with  the  rest 
of  us  !  but,  by  George,  I  wasn't  prepared  for 
such  a  change  as  this !  " 

To  hear  his  father  eulogized  made  Garth 
restive,  even  when  convinced  that  the  eu- 
logy was  sincere.  But  the  mention  of  ill 
health  merged  this  petty  emotion  in  a  deeper 
one. 

"  You  spoke  of  that  once  before,"  he 
said,  looking  at  his  companion,  "  and  I 
heard  Mrs.  Tenterden  say  something  about 
it,  too.  My  father  is  getting  old,  and  the 
last  few  months  has  had  pain  sometimes — 
rheumatism,  I  suppose ;  but  he  cannot  be 
seriously  ill." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  boy,  you  see,  you  are 
with  him  iroin  day  to  day,  and  his  debility 
wouldn't  come  on  you  with  a  shock,  as  it 
did  on  me.  He  has  hardly  a  remnant  of  the 
vivacity  and  sparkle  that  I  remember  in 
him.  I  still  catch  a  glimpse  occasionally  of 
that  old  subtile,  ironical  humor  that  can 
never  quite  die  out  of  him ;  but  the  elas- 
ticity, the  mischievous  glance— ah,  dear  old 


UNCLE   AND   NEPHEW. 


131 


Cuthbert !  I  fancy  your  dear  mother's  death 
must  have  shattered  him  a  good  deal  ?  " 

"He  bore  it  so  much  better  than  I," 
murmured  Garth,  speaking  less  to  his  uncle 
than  to  himself,  "  that  I  almost  forgot  he 
had  anything  to  bear."  He  was  silent  for 
some  moments,  but  finally  said,  heaving  a 
deep  sigh :  "  Yes,  I  can  see  now  that  ray 
father  is  not  the  same  man  since  then.  No 
doubt  it  struck  him  deeper  than  it  did  me. 
But  he  never  shows  what  he  feels — hardly 
ever — either  joy  or  sorrow." 

"  Ah,  yes,  that's  Cuthbert :  a  great  deal 
of  the  Indian  stoic  in  him.  But  a  loss  of 
that  kind  will  wear  a  man  down,  you  know, 
give  it  time ;  and,  no  doubt,  it  may  have 
impaired  the  recuperative  power.  Doesn't 
he  consult  a  physician  ?  " 

"  No — yes  ;  Professor  Grindle  (a  college 
professor  of  mine,  who  used  to  practise 
medicine)  was  here  last  spring ;  perhaps 
my  father  consulted  him.  He  has  letters 
from  him  once  in  a  while." 

"  Oh,  we  must  get  him  a  regular  live 
doctor !  "  exclaimed  Golightley,  enterpris- 
ingly ;  "  see  what's  the  matter  with  him, 
and  cure  him  up.  I  dare  say,  now,  this  little 
variety  of  having  me  with  him,  and  seeing 
Mildred  now  and  then,  and  so  on,  will  be  of 
the  greatest  benefit  to  him.  I  hope  to  do 
wonders,  my  dear  Garth,  in  the  way  of  rais- 
ing his  spirits  and  making  everything  easy 
and  comfortable  for  him.  Bless  his  heart ! 
he's  had  plenty  of  anxiety  and  trouble,  I 
don't  doubt ;  so  have  I — we  all  have  had ; 
this  uncertainty  and  restriction  regarding 
money-matters,  you  know,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing ;  but  that's  done  with  now,  thank 
Fortune,  and  I  mean  to  have  us  all  easy  and 
comfortable  from  this  time  forth.  As  for 
you,  you  have  genius,  and  are  bound  to 
make  a  fortune  of  your  own.  However,  I 
should  be  glad  to  think  that  I'd  given  you  a 
bit  of  a  lift  at  the  start— eh  ? " 

Garth  was  silent  for  some  time.  At  last 
he  said : 

"  You  have  given  me  such  a  lift  that  I 
shall  never  want  another." 

Golightley's  recent  conversation  with 
Cuthbert  had  put  him  somewhat  on  his 
guard  as  to  Garth's  possible  sentiments  on 
this  subject,  and  he  had  already  made  up 


his  mind  what  was  the  proper  thing  to 
say. 

"Now,  my  dear  young  nephew,"  he  be- 
gan, engagingly,  "I  can't  let  you  forget  that 
I  am  your  uncle,  and  have  a  right  to  take 
avuncular  liberties  with  nephews  and  nieces 
whom  I  love.  I  see  what's  in  your  mind, 
and  I  like  you  the  better  for  what  I  see; 
and,  to  prove  it,  I  mean  to  be  perfectly 
frank  with  you.  There's  a  little  bit  of  pro- 
fessional pride  and  jealousy  at  work  in  you. 
You  want  your  picture  to  sell  entirely  on  its 
own  merits,  and  not—" 

"  If  you  did  not  see  what  is  in  my  mind," 
said  Garth,  taking  advantage  of  his  uncle's 
hesitating  for  a  suitable  expression,  "I 
should  feel  like  telling  you." 

"Ha!  ha!  Well,  now,  my  dear  boy, 
you  must  consider,  you  know,  how  deep 
and  genuine  my  interest  in  you  is.  Why 
should  not  you  prefer  to  see  your  picture — 
which,  as  I  have  often  said,  has  intrinsic 
power  and  originality  enough  to  make  your 
reputation  without  me — to  see  it  in  the 
hands  of  a  warm  friend  and  relative  rather 
than  .of  a  mere  disinterested  connoisseur  ? 
When  you  come  to  think  it  over,  I  know, 
without  your  telling  me,  that  that  considera- 
tion alone  will  give  you  more  satisfaction 
than  the  mere  price,  more  or  less,  that  goes 
in  your  pocket.  Why,  it's  a  mutual  pleasure 
and  gratification  to  both  of  us." 

"  Why  do  you  tell  me  this,  Uncle  Go- 
lightley? "  demanded  Garth,  with  an  air  of 
grave  curiosity. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Garth,  because  a  rather 
sad  experience  has  taught  me  the  wisdom  of 
perfect  frankness  between  those  who  would 
be  friends.  And  I  want  you  to  feel  how 
great  my  interest  is,  not  only  in  your  artistic, 
but  in  your  domestic  future.  I'm  so  glad 
you're  going  to  marry  that  sweet,  lovely 
girl,  Madge !  .  It's  such  a  good  thing  for  a 
young  man  like  you,  of  sound,  high  princi- 
ples, just  entering  on  life,  to  have  such  a 
charming  creature  as  that  always  at  your 
side,  helping  you  over  the  rough  places,  and 
beckoning  you  up  the  heights.  Ah,  Garth, 
what  a  different  life  I  might  have  led,  if — 
But  no  matter.  No  doubt  it's  better  as  it 
is.  H'm  !  where  was  I  ?  " 

Perhaps  Garth  did  not  know ;    at   all 


132 


GARTH. 


events,  be  did  not  tell,  but  callously  left  his 
uncle  to  find  out  for  himself. 

"  "Well,  what  I'm  coming  to  is  this :  I 
spoke  just  now  of  professional  jealousy. 
Now,  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  hot-blooded 
young  fellow,  and  I  know  that  there's  more 
kinds  of  jealousy  than  one.  And  I  tell  you 
fairly,  Garth — I  hinted  it  once  before — that 
the  portrait  which  you  have  incorporated 
with  your  picture  in  such  a  masterly  man- 
ner, and  which  is  a  masterpiece  in  itself — 
that  portrait,  and  the  associations  which  will 
always  cling  to  it,  have  mainly  influenced 
me  in  this  little  transaction  of  ours.  But, 
I'm  sure,  after  what  I've  said  about  that 
charming  girl,  that  you  cannot  misunder- 
stand my  attitude  toward  her.  I  admire 
her,  you  know,  in  the  aesthetic  sense.  I 
might  say,  impersonally,  but  that  I  feel  my- 
self too  much  bound  up  with  you  all  on 
other  grounds  to  call  it  that." 

Uncle  Golightley  seemed  likely  to  go  on 
yet  further  in  this  earnest  vein,  but  at  this 
point  Garth  interrupted  his  solemn  discourse 
with  a  laugh,  which,  despite  the  elder's  in- 
sight into  the  workings  of  the  artist's. mind, 
seemed  to  take  him  by  surprise. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  a  hot-blooded  young 
fellow,  Uncle  Golightley,"  said  the  nephew. 
"  I  never  had  a  misgiving  on  Margaret  Dan- 
ver's  account,  and  it  doesn't  matter  to  me 
what  the  picture  is  bought  for,  so  long  as 
it's  bought.  That  is  the  unpoetic  fact.  I 
hope  you  admire  Margaret — or  her  portrait 
— at  least  as  much  as  you  say  you  do,  be- 
cause otherwise  you  would  be,  from  an  ar- 
tistic point  of  view,  a  fool  to  spend  a  cent 
upon  the  picture,  not  to  speak  of  a  thousand 
pounds.  But  I  told  you  my  opinion  on  that 
matter  at  the  time." 

Uncle  Golightley  was  seldom  so  much 
put  out  as  not  to  be  able  to  rally  quickly, 
and  he  now  recovered  himself  with  great 
good-humor. 

"I  remember,  you  young  Vandal ;  and, 
by-the-by,  I  wish  you'd  explain  how  you 
came  to  put  that  wonderful  face  into  your 
composition,  only  to  utter  blasphemy  against 
it  afterward." 

Garth  shook  his  head. 

"I  forgot  the  picture,"  said  he,  "  while  I 
was  painting  the  face." 


"  By  Goorge,  well  you  might !  Ha !  ha ! 
You  rascal !  So  you're  not  afraid  of  a  rival 
well  up  in  the  forties — eh  ?  Ah,  well,  I 
don't  blame  you ;  and  I  see  we  understand 
each  other  very  well.  But  it  struck  me  you 
were  a  trifle  in  the  blues  lately,  and  I  feared 
I  might  have  unwittingly  trod  on  your  corns 
in  one  way  or  another." 

"  I  truly  believe,"  said  Garth,  after  a 
minute  or  two,  "that  the  only  person  I'm 
quite  safe  in  distrusting  is — this!"  indicat- 
ing himself  by  a  slight  contemptuous  ges- 
ture. "Do  you  know,  whenever  I  dream 
of  you,  you  appear  as  a  scoundrel!  The 
discredit  is  mine,  not  yours.  And  I  disliked 
your  ways — your  free  way  with  women.  J 
beg  your  pardon  for  it.  It  was  because  I 
haven't  the  strength  or  the  goodness,  or 
whatever  the  virtue  is,  to  do  innocently 
what  you  can  do.  I'm  in  a  bad  way,  it 
seems." 

"See  here,  my  beloved  nephew,"  cried 
Uncle  Golightley,  with  a  half-laughing,  half- 
apprehensive  glance  at  his  saturnine  com- 
panion, "  have  you  gone  melancholy  mad, 
or  are  you  dreaming  awake  ?  I  never  heard 
you  in  this  vein  before." 

"Have  no  anxiety,"  returned  Garth, 
shaking  his  shaggy  head  again,  with  a  brief, 
unmirthful  smile.  "  It  must  be  an  eccen- 
tricity of  genius — and  that  will  soon  pass, 
Heaven  knows!  There  are  the  wagons." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

LOVER    AND    MISTRESS. 

Ix  fact,  the  forest  had  now  thinned  away 
and  they  were  within  sight  of  the  Danvers' 
cottage,  which  stood  on  the  hither  outskirt 
of  the  little  village.  Before  the  front-gate 
of  the  garden  inclosure  stood  a  roomy  but 
rather  primitive  rustic  vehicle,  consisting  of 
a  platform  mounted  on  four  wheels  and 
fenced  round  with  half  a  dozen  uprights — in 
short,  an  old-fashioned  hay -rigging.  To  fit  it 
for  its  present  employment  three  or  four 
stout  boards  had  been  fastened  horizontally 
to  the  uprights,  at  a  suitable  height  above  the 
flooring,  by  way  of  seats;  and  a  number  of 
baskets  of  provisions  had  been  securely 


LOVER   AND  MISTRESS. 


133 


stowed  away  forward.  Two  wiry  farm- 
horses  were  harnessed  to  the  shafts,  and  a 
group  of  persons,  among  whom  were  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  Madge,  and  Mrs.  Danver,  was 
collected  hard  by.  Madge  was  feeding  the 
horses  with  handfuls  of  hay,  while  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden  seemed  to  be  examining  the  rude 
conveyance  with  some  misgiving  at  its  lack 
of  springs,  and  confiding  her  apprehensions 
to  Mrs.  Danver. 

As  Garth  and  his  uncle  drew  near,  the 
latter  stepping  jauntily  along  with  his  beard 
in  the  air,  the  former  butting  forward  with 
downward  brow,  Golightley,  in  the  exuber- 
ance of  the  moment,  took  off  his  hat  and 
waved  it  in  the  air,  uttering  a  view-halloo. 
Mrs.  Tenterden  straightway  began  hunting 
in  her  pockets  for  a  handkerchief  to  wave 
in  response,  but  did  not  find  it  until  the  gen- 
tlemen were  so  close  at  hand  as  to  rob  the 
act  of  its  propriety.  Madge  left  the  horses 
and  advanced  to  meet  the  new-comers,  look- 
ing like  an  incarnation  of  the  rich  and  lovely 
day. 

Golightley  was  on  the  point  of  greeting 
her  with  all  his  customary  gallantry  of  man- 
ner, but  happening  to  remember  his  com- 
panion's crotchets  on  the  subject,  he  forcibly 
constrained  his  cordiality  to  a  mere  gentle 
pressure  of  both  hfer  hands  and  a  fatherly 
compliment  on  her  appearance  and  costume. 

She  laughed,  and  looked  so  provokingly 
kissable  that  poor  Uncle  Golightley  sighed, 
and  passed  on  to  wreak  his  tenderness  npon 
sister  Mildred,  leaving  Madge  to  her  lover. 
She  stood  in  front  of  him,  holding  on  to  a 
button  of  his  coat,  and  twisting  it  as  she 
spoke : 

"I  saw  you  pass  twice  this  morning, 
from  my  window,  and  you  didn't  look  up. 
Tell  me,  dear  Garth,  have  I  done  anything 
wrong  ?  Are  you  sorry,  or  glad — or  angry  ?  " 

"I've  been  growing  wise  during  the  last 
few  days,  that's  all.  You  have  done  noth- 
ing wrong." 

"  But  why  should  growing  wise  make 
you  sad  ? " 

"  Because  it  shows  me  what  a  fool  I  have 
been  until  within  the  last  few  days.  But  I 
shall  get  over  it  soon,  and  be  as  merry  as  I 
am  wise." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  have  been  growing 


wise  about?"  demanded  Madge,  with  a 
quick,  scrutinizing  glance. 

"  About  marrying  you.  I  ought  to  have 
married  you  years  ago  instead  of  going  to 
Europe.  By  this  time  we  should  have  been 
a  well-to-do  farming  couple,  with  something 
tangible  to  do  and  think  of — crops  and  hogs 
and  markets." 

"  Hogs  and  markets !  You  funny  boy ! 
I  am  thinking  about  fine  people  and  society." 

"It  is  all  the  same  what  you  call  them; 
I  think  hogs  and  markets  sounds  the  best. 
That  is  my  wisdom.  When  I  was  a  fool,  I 
should  have  preferred  something  abstract 
and  ideal.  A  fool,  Madge,  is  a  person  who 
talks  and  thinks  about  things  above  him. 
When  I  first  fell  in  love  with  you,  I  ought 
to  have  made  up  my  mind  never  to  busy 
myself  about  anything  more  above  me  than 
you  are.  I  never  saw  you  looking  better 
than  you  do  this  morning;  but,"  he  con- 
tinued, taking  both  her  wrists  in  his  hands 
and  griping  them  hard,  "there's  nothing  ab- 
stract about  you — or  ideal  either  !  and  there 
sha'n't  be  in  my  life  from  this  time  forward." 

"Do,  Mrs.  Tenterden,  look  at  those  two 
sweethearts,  without  a  word  for  anybody 
but  their  two  selves!  "  cried  Mrs.  Danver. 
— "  Maggie,  we're  starting,  child  ! — Well, 
wouldn't  you  think  she  was  deaf,  ma'am  ?  " 

"It's  a  very  delightful  kind  of  deafness, 
I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Tenterden,  laughing ; 
for  she  was  not  so  old  as  to  have  forgotten 
the  time  when  she  suffered  from  a  like  in- 
firmity. "It  makes  one  forget  all  about 
matter-of-fact  things  and  people." 

"Ah!  "sighed  Golightley,  caressing  his 
cheek,  as  he  turned  his  tinted  eye-glasses  on 
the  lovers.  "When  boys  and  girls  are  in 
love,  it  comes  to  the  surface  in  every  look 
and  gesture;  but  when  we  get  a  little  older, 
Mildred,  it  may  show  less,  but  it  makes  more 
havoc  with  our  insides.  Where's  Elinor?  " 

"  She's  always  the  last  one  to  be  ready, 
you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Tenterden.  "But 
there  she  comes." 

"  All  in  gray  and  scarlet,  like  fire  and 
ashes.  Buon1  giorno,  fair  lady!  the  last, 
best  gift  of  Heaven  to  man  !  "  lie  took  her 
hand  and  kissed  it.  "  Come,  Garth,  show 
your  public  spirit  enough  to  get  ns  in  the 
wagon.  You  and  I  must  act  as  derricks  for 


134: 


GARTH. 


these  four  nymphs. — Mrs.  Danver,  let  us  be- 
gin with  you." 

Mrs.  Danver,  who  was  entirely  capti- 
vated by  Uncle  Golightley's  attentions,  was 
accordingly  hoisted  on  board,  and  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden,  a  much  heavier  weight,  and  the 
heavier  for  her  laughing  timorousness,  fol- 
lowed. Then  came  Elinor,  who,  as  she  gave 
her  hand  to  Garth  to  be  lifted  up,  expected 
him  to  say  good  -morning  to  her,  and  had  the 
answering  greeting  on  the  tip  of  her  own 
tongue ;  but  he  turned  his  face  away  and 
said  not  a  word,  upon  which  the  proud,  self- 
contained  young  lady  flushed  pink  to  the 
ears.  Madge  was  the  last,  and  she  bounded 
up  with  such  unexpected  lightness  that  Un- 
cle Golightley  lost  his  balance  and  fell  back- 
ward, to  his  great  chagrin,  especially  as  the 
mishap  unseated  his  tinted  eye-glasses.  How- 
ever, he  immediately  jumped  up  again  with 
a  great  laugh,  and  declared  that  Madge  w^,s 
the  first  young  lady  who  had  ever  got  the 
better  of  his  understanding,  and  defeated  his 
upright  intentions. 

By  this  time  the  two  or  three  other 
wagons  which  had  been  waiting,  full  of  pic- 
nickers, at  the  corner  of  the  adjoining  road, 
were  beginning  to  rumble  away  toward  their 
destination,  amid  much  noise  and  merriment. 
Garth,  who  had  taken  his  place  as  driver, 
was  preparing  to  follow  them,  when  Mrs. 
Danver,  with  a  sudden  shriek  of  recollec- 
tion, reminded  him  that  it  had  been  arranged 
they  should  call  at  the  parsonage  for  Mr. 
Graeme,  whose  age  and  position  entitled 
him  to  that  attention.  The  horses'  heads 
were  therefore  turned  in  that  direction; 
but  before  they  had  proceeded  many  rods, 
the  hoary  patriarch's  colossal  form  loomed 
into  view,  somewhat  bent  and  stiffened  be- 
neath his  vast,  invisible  weight  of  years,  but 
still  sturdy  enough,  as  it  seemed,  to  bear 
half  a  generation  more.  While  yet  at  a  dis- 
tance he  uplifted  his  voice,  mighty  in  spite 
of  the  cracks  and  quavers  that  occasionally 
sounded  through  it,  and  began  a  jovial  mon- 
ologue. 

"Hullo,  folks!  Why,  I  began  to  think 
you'd  forgotten  me,  I'm  such  an  inconsider- 
able young  man  —  haw!  haw!  haw!  So 
there's  Master  Garth !  is  he  actually  going 
to  a  picnic  at  last?  Well,  I've  lived  to  some 


j  purpose,  now  that  I've  seen  that  come  to 
pass;  no  mistake  about  it — ho!  ho!  Why, 
the  other  day,  when  he  was  a  little  chap 
about  up  to  my  knee-buckle — he's  not  much 
over  that  now,  either — the  other  day — well 
— eh  ?  what  was  it  happened  the  other  day? 
I  was  just  going  to  say  something,  but  I  do 
believe  I've  forgotten  it,  though  I've  got  a 
wonderful  good  memory  ;  no  mistake  about 
that— ha!  ha!  ha! — Whoa,  Dobbin!— Good- 

|  morning,  boys  and  girls. — Young  man,  if 
you'll  lend  a  helping  hand — I'm  not  quite  so 
spry  in  the  joints  as  usual  this  morning — 
once  more!  Thank  you,  sir. — I  don't  know 
your  name,  but— Golightley  ?  Maud  Urm- 
son's  boy  that  went  to  London  five-and- 
twenty  years  ago?  Got  back?  Why,  lad, 
we're  all  heartily  glad  to  see  you  again.  I 
do  believe — though,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  saw 
you  yesterday — or  was  it  day  before  yes- 
terday ?  Yes,  yes;  but  it's  the  hair  on 
your  face  that  bothered  me.  You're  the  first 
Urmson  ever  wore  side-whiskers!  but  there 
was  always  more  of  Maud  than  of  Brian  in 
you,  anyway.  You  had  a  show  of  the 
split  in  the  chin,  but  not  the  jaw — not  the 
eye,  either.  Garth's  the  man — Urmson  all 
over,  like  his  grandfather  and  his  great- 
great-great-grandfather  before  him.  They 
didn't  any  of  them  paint  pictures,  though — 
eh,  Garth  ?  I  always  said  you  ought  to  give 
that  up  ;  you  will,  too,  I  guess,  one  of  these 
days,  and  take  to  soldiering  or  privateering, 
as  an  Urmson  ought — haw!  haw!  ho! — 
Madam,  good -morning — Mrs.  Tenterden? 
Yes,  yes ;  I  know  you  all  now — Maud's  lit- 
tle girl  that  we  heard  of,  but  never  saw. 
Do  you  know,  madam,  you  came  very  near 
not  being  born  at  all  ?  Why,  if  Maud  hadn't 
been  told  that  Brian  was  dead,  and  if  he 
hadn't  been  told  that  she  was  dead,  they'd 
have  been  made  man  and  wife  in  the  year 
1781 ;  and  then  where  would  you  and  Cuth- 
bert  have  been,  I  want  to  know  ? — ho !  ho  ! 
where  would  you  have  been,  Cuthbert,  lad  ? 
Why,  where  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  said  he  must  keep  to  his  study  to- 
day," Garth  made  answer. 

"  Ay,  working  on  his  history — a  history 
of  the  United  States,  Mrs.  Tenterden,  incar- 
nated, so  to  speak,  in  the  Urmson  family. 
The  family,  madam,  has  been  here  pretty 


AN  UNFINISHED  SENTENCE. 


135 


nearly  from  the  start,  and  borne  a  hand 
more  or  less  directly  in  all  the  chief  events  ; 
but  never,  if  you  observe,  ma'am,  aiming  for 
the  top  places — no  commanders-in-chief  or 
Governors  or  Presidents  among  'em ;  they 
represent  the  heart  more  than  the  head  of 
the  people,  you  see,  Mrs.  Tenterden ;  though 
as  for  Garth  there,  it  isn't  easy  to  say  what 
he  represents.  Cuthbert  would  make  him 
out  the  full  body  corporate,  I  suspect — ho ! 
ho !  But  I  tell  him  no  Urmson  ever  took  to 
paint  and  canvas  before — though  Garth  has 
a  fist  for  other  things  as  well,  ma'am,  when 
the  time  comes.  TV'hy,  last  Michaelmas-day 
— haw  !  haw ! — he  gave  such  a  licking  to 
Sam  Kineo  as  scared  the  chap  out  of  the  vil- 
lage— that  was  five  or  ten  years  ago,  and  he 
hasn't  been  back  here  since.  And  all  on 
Miss  Madge's  account.  But  she's  a  little 
witch  ;  and  some  day,  when  Garth  gets  big 
enough,  I'm  going  to  try  a  tussle  with  him 
about  her  myself.  I  believe  she  loves  me 
better  than  she  does  him  now." 

So  saying,  the  venerable  Titan  drew 
Madge,  who  happened  to  be  sitting  near 
him,  on  his  gigantic  knee,  and  kissed  her  on 
both  cheeks.  The  love-making  between  him 
and  this  young  woman  had  never  undergone 
abatement  or  eclipse  from  its  beginning  to 
the  present  day.  Madge,  to  do  her  justice, 
had  been  as  true  to  him  as  he  had  been  to 
her.  Possibly  she  appreciated  the  moral 
support  whicli  his  countenance  and  affection 
afforded  her  in  a  community  where  the  par- 
son was  still  able  largely  to  influence  and 
direct  public  opinion  upon  all  social  ques- 
tions. Moreover,  his  unswerving  and  out- 
spoken belief  in  her  may  well  have  had  the 
effect  of  moulding  in  some  degree  her  own 
estimate  of  herself.  Although  too  clear- 
headed not  to  be  aware  that  in  this  or  that 
particular  respect  the  genial  credulity  of  the 
old  giant  palpably  overrated  her,  she  would 
nevertheless  think  better  of  her  deserts  from 
a  comprehensive  point  of  view  ;  and  thus,  in 
deceiving  him,  she  would  bo  indirectly  com- 
passing a  self-deception.  Parson  Graeme 
had  never,  perhaps,  been  a  person  of  very 
profound  intelligence:  and,  during  the  last 
few  years,  such  mental  faculties  as  he  had 
had  been  gradually  becoming  clouded  and 
untrustworthy.  Madge,  however,  though 


possessing  no  small  talent  for  demure  ridi- 
cule, was  never  known  to  exercise  it  at  the 
expense  of  her  hoary  admirer — a  piece  of 
self-restraint  which  becomes  easily  intelli- 
gible if  we  suppose  her  to  have  recognized 
his  value  as  a  moral  ally  ;  for  who  but  a  sim- 
pleton would  think  of  discrediting  the  pillar 
of  his  respectability  by  chalking  caricatures 
upon  it?  Although,  moreover,  the  good 
minister  could  hardly  have  boasted  such  per- 
sonal attractions  as  would  be  likely  in  them- 
selves to  captivate  a  , young  woman  of 
Madge's  tastes,  yet  did  she  seem  to  find  a 
peculiar  pleasure  in  clinging  about  him  in 
every  affectionate  attitude,  caressing  and 
caressed.  I  would  by  no  means  deny  the 
possibility  of  her  having  detected  in  him 
qualities  so  superior  to  all  merely  external 
attributes  as  to  sink  the  latter  beneath  con- 
sideration ;  but,  be  this  as  it  may,  it  was 
patent  to  the  dullest  eye  that  the  contrast 
between  the  warm  grace  of  the  lovely,  bloom- 
ing girl  and  the  frosty  ponderousness  of  the 
age-smitten  parson  was  vastly  picturesque, 
and,  so  far  at  least  as  Madge  was  concerned, 
certainly  most  politic.  However,  the  wisest 
policy  is  not  necessarily  self-conscious,  and 
Madge  might  have  been  a  politician  un- 
awares. It  is  not  easy  to  look  upon  such 
a  woman  and  judge  her  severely,  or  even 
impartially.  She  appeals  to  something  in 
man  more  potent  than  any  merely  judicial 
or  logical  weapon  that  he  is  apt  to  have  at 
command. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

AX    UNFINISHED   SENTENCE. 

SOON  after  leaving  the  village  the  wagon 
got  into  the  rough  woodland  ways,  and  jolted 
horribly,  much  to  the  distress  of  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden— one  of  those  women  who  seem  es- 
pecially fitted  by  nature  to  grace  a  smooth- 
rolling  carriage,  drawn  by  pampered  steeds, 
and  attended  by  liveried  footmen,  but  who 
are  quite  out  of  their  element  in  a  New  Eng- 
land hay-rigging,  or  in  any  other  situation 
involving  physical  unease  and  awkwardness. 
She  clung  to  the  wooden  upright  on  one  side, 
and  to  Golightley's  arm  on  the  other,  in  mani- 
fest discomfort  and  alarm. 


136 


GARTH. 


"  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  walk, 
daughter?  "  she  said  to  Elinor.  "  This  jolt- 
ing will  be  sure  to  give  you  one  of  your 
headaches;  and  I'll  come  with,  you,  so  as 
you  won't  get  lost." 

"No,  I  enjoy  jolting,"  replied  Elinor, 
with  a  malicious  smile ;  "  besides,  what  if 
you  should  find  you  had  forgotten  the  way 
to  the  picnic-ground  yourself?  " 

"I  think  that's  very  mean  of  you,  Nel- 
lie," cried  Mrs.  Tenterden,  laughing  at  the 
detection  of  her  own  duplicity.  "  Well,  I 
hope,  at  any  rate,  there  are  no  eggs  or  brit- 
tle things  in  those  baskets,  or  there'll  be 
nothing  left  of  them." 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  ma'am  !  "  said  Mrs.  Dan- 
ver,  shaking  her  poke-bonnet,  with  its  im- 
maculate starched  frill,  "  when  you've  been 
bumped  about  as  much  as  I  have,  you'll 
never  notice  this  at  all — though,  too,  I've 
got  aches  and  pains  in  all  my  poor  bones, 
and  have  had  many  years,  ma'am — yes.  But 
you  always  being  able  to  live  in  luxury,  as  I 
might  say,  it  is  but  natural  you  should  find 
it  come  a  little  hard  at  first." 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  country-life,"  re- 
turned the  other  lady,  who  had  too  much 
spirit  to  submit  to  any  such  assumption  of 
superiority.  "  I  was  brought  up  on  the  plan- 
tation down  in  Virginia,  and  ran  wild  all 
over  the  place  till  I  was  seventeen. — But  I 
must  say  I  don't  know  where  you  get  all 
your  endurance  from,  Nellie ;  you  were  such 
a  puny  little  thing  when  we  took  you,  after 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Golightley  died ;  and  then  we 
all  went  over  to  Europe,  and  lived  there 
ever  since — in  luxury,  as  you  would  say, 
Mrs.  Danver,"  she  added,  with  her  good- 
natured  laugh. 

"Elinor  has  the  old  Cavalier  spirit,"  said 
Golightley,  "  and  minds  jolting  no  more  than 
one  of  Prince  Rupert's  horsemen." 

Elinor  seemed  inclined  to  resent  being 
made  the  subject  of  personalities  in  mixed 
company,  and  she  would  have  withdrawn 
into  herself  with  all  the  haughtiness  of  her 
twenty  maiden  years;  but  at  this  juncture 
Parson  Graeme  put  his  enormous  finger  in 
the  pie. 

"Is  miss  a  Golightley?"  he  asked,  in 
his  time-worn  rumble.  "  Why,  I  thought, 
madam,  she'd  been  your  own  daughter.  A 


real  Golightley !  Cuthbert  and  I  had  been 
thinking  they'd  died  out.  Let's  see :  there 
was  Rupert,  Brian's  friend,  was  killed  near 
Jamestown,  when  I  was  no  older  than  Garth 
is  now.  But,  to  be  sure,  he  had  a  brother 
Charles — ay,  that's  the  man!  We  knew 
Charles  had  a  son,  but  we  never  heard  of  a 
daughter. — Miss,  we're  right  glad  to  have 
you  among  us — eh,  Cuthbert  ?  Why,  where 
is  the  lad?  He'd  rejoice  to  see  Charles  Go- 
lightley's  daughter." 

This  was  certainly  tiresome  and  foolish, 
especially  since  something  similar  to  it  had 
taken  place  once  or  twice  before ;  and  Uncle 
Golightley  wore  a  compassionate  sneer,  while 
Mrs.  Tenterden  looked  as  if  she  might  have 
laughed.  But  Elinor  answered  him  with  a 
gentleness  which  she  could  not  help  feeling 
for  the  decayed  old  patriarch,  with  liis  rec- 
ollections of  seventy  years  ago,  and  his  for- 
getfulness  of  the  passing  hour. 

u  Charles  Golightley  was  my  grandfather, 
Mr.  Graeme,"  said  she ;  "his  son  James  was 
my  father.  We  have  not  quite  died  out  yet, 
you  see ;  but  I  am  the  last  of  the  Golight- 
leys." 

"  You  have  a  sweet  voice,  my  lass,"  said 
the  venerable  minister,  gazing  at  her  with 
his  ancient  eyes;  "  a  sweet  voice,  that  tells 
of  a  true  soul  and  a  pure  heart.  Take  an  old 
man's  word  for  it." 

His  own  voice,  as  he  spoke,  abated  some- 
what of  its  ruggedness,  for  lie  was  suscep- 
tible as  a  child  to  certain  superficial  im- 
pressions. The  next  moment,  however,  he 
reverted,  with  a  child's  inconstancy,  to  his 
customary  noisy  joviality. 

"  When  that  boy  yonder  was  born, 
ma'am,"  he  began,  addressing  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den, and  pointing  to  Garth,  "  we  were  look- 
ing about  to  see  whom  he  was  to  marry. 
Cuthbert  was  always  for  historical  compen- 
sation— something  of  that  sort — ho!  ho! — 
and  he  said  the  Urmsons  had  treated  the  Go- 
lightleys  so  shabbily,  it  ought  to  be  made  up 
somehow :  if  there  was  only  a  little  girl  Go- 
lightley, Garth  might  marry  her  when  they 
grew  up,  and  settle  it  that  way.  '  Better 
hunt  her  up,'  said  I,  'before  he  gets  ahead 
of  us,  and  falls  in  love  with  the  wrong  girl.' 
Haw!  haw!  haw!  However,  miss,"  con- 
tinued this  old  enfant  terrible,  "he  grew  up 


AN   UNFINISHED   SENTENCE. 


13? 


such  a  bashful  chap,  he  was  always  hiding 
away  by  himself,  and  we  couldn't  get  him 
even  to  go  to  the  picnic  till  he  was  quite  a 
lad ;  and  then  he  shinned  up  a  tree  before 
any  of  us  got  there,  and  never  came  down 
till  we  were  all  out  of  the  way  again.  But, 
sure  enough,  that  same  night  he  was  punch- 
ing Sam  Kineo's  head  because  Sam  had — 
What  was  it  he  did  to  you,  Madge,  my 
lass?" 

"Nothing,  grandpapa,  dear,"  replied  that 
young  lady,  with  a  covert  glance  at  Garth, 
who  had  turned  partly  round  as  if  trying  to 
relieve  her  from  her  supposed  embarrassment 
by  commanding  the  eyes  of  the  auditors  to 
his  own  flushed  and  darkening  visage. 

"  I  beg  the  company's  pardon,"  said  he, 
u  for  having  to  rake  up  the  story ;  but  Sam 
Kineo  said  he  had  done  what  he  had  not." 

Good  Mrs.  Tenterden,  whose  own  good 
humor  not  seldom  betrayed  her  into  inad- 
vertently exasperating  the  raw  places  of  less 
happily  constituted  persons,  hereupon  began 
to  chuckle  and  shake  her  statuesque  shoul- 
ders, at  the  same  time  casting  arch  glances 
at  poor  Madge,  evidently  with  the  intention 
of  presently  uttering  some  unforgivable  innu- 
endo about  the  coquettishness  of  pretty  girls 
and  the  unsuspecting  credulity  of  young 
men.  Elinor  saw  the  impending  peril,  and 
was  impelled,  despite  her  declared  hostility 
and  contempt  for  Garth  Urmson,  to  make  an 
attempt  at  turning  the  conversation. 

"  We  met  a  gentleman  abroad  who,  I  be- 
lieve, was  a  friend  of  yours,  Mr.  Urmson. 
His  name  was  Selwyn." 

"  Yes,"  said  Garth,  involuntarily  putting 
his  hand  in  his  coat-pocket ;  "  he  was  with 
me  in  Europe  the  first  year,  and  afterward 
studied  law  in  Germany.  A  very  different 
man  from  Kineo !  " 

"  He  was  a  very  intelligent  person,"  ob- 
served Mrs.  Tenterden.  "  We  all  got  to  like 
him  very  much.  At  least,"  she  added, 
recollecting  herself,  "/  thought  him  very 
clever  and  agreeable. — You  didn't,  Golight- 
ley." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  Golightley  hast- 
ened to  say,  settling  his  eye  -  glasses  and 
bringing  forward  his  hair  over  his  ears — 
"very  glad  to  hear,  Garth,  that  Jack  Sel- 
wyn was  a  friend  of  yours.  Of  course,  one 


who  has  seen  so  much  of  what  strangers  on 
the  Continent  sometimes  turn  out  to  be,  has 
to  exercise  great  caution  in  admitting  peo- 
ple to  too  great  familiarity.  H'm !  — You 
mustn't  say  I  disliked  him,  my  dear  Mildred ; 
but  I  felt  it  would  be  unadvisable  to  consult 
a  man  whose  respectability  we  had  no  means 
of  establishing,  upon  a  matter  like  the  re- 
covery of  your  lost  property,  you  know. 
Besides,  it  was  perfectly  impossible  to  re- 
cover anything.  I — h'm — I  believe  I  never 
mentioned  it  to  you  before,  my  dear,  but  for 
several  months  I  employed  the  first  detec- 
tives of  London  and  Paris,  and  nothing  came 
of  it." 

"  My  fathers !  Golightley,  did  you  real- 
ly?" exclaimed  Mrs.  Tenterden.— "Well, 
if  that  isn't  the  funniest  thing,  daughter! 
Well,  to  think  of  our  not  knowing  it !  " 

"  Selwyn,"  began  Garth,  and  hesitated 
for  a  moment — "  Selwyn,"  he  continued,  "is 
one  of  the  most  upright  and  keen  men  I 
know.  He  has  traveled  over  the  world  ever 
since  he  was  a  child,  and  knows  men  better 
than  most  men  do. — You  were  mistaken  in 
not  trusting  him,  Uncle  Golightley.  I  be- 
lieve he  would  know  a  thief  or  a  scoundrel 
as  soon  as  he  looked  at  him." 

wlla!  ha!  a  sort  of  moral  touch-stone 
of  humanity.  Well,  it's  really  a  pity  we 
hadn't  been  better  introduced  to  him.  But 
I'm  interested  about  this  Kineo,  Garth. 
What  was  he,  and  what  became  of  him?" 

As  Garth  did  not  at  once  reply,  old  Mrs. 
Danver  interposed  her  thin,  faded  voice. 
"  He  was  just  one  of  those  half-breed  In- 
dians, Mr.  Golightley,  and  I  suppose  that's 
about  all  anybody  does  know  about  what  ho 
is.  He  first  came  here,  just  a  little  baby, 
with  Nikomis,  now  the  cook  up  to  Urm- 
hurst,  where  you've  likely  seen  her,  sir.  She 
called  herself  his  grandmother.  But  the 
best  I  can  say  is,  I  never  did  take  to  either 
of  'em.  I  was  really  quite  glad  when  Garth 
put  him  down  so,  for  I  do  believe  he  might 
have  troubled  Maggie,  though  she  always 
laughs  when  I  say  it." 

"  A  half-breed,  was  he  ?  Light  or  dark  ?  " 

"  Well,  seems  like  he  was  pretty  light  for 
a  half-breed,"  said  Mrs.  Danver.  "  I  recol- 
lect we  used  to  say,  when  Garth  was  more 
tanned  than  usual,  there  wasn't  much  to 


138 


GARTH. 


choose  but  what  he  was  as  dark  as  Sam. 
We  did  use  to  say,  too,  now  and  again,  that 
there  was  a  likeness  to  each  other  between 
them  other  ways,  though  Sam  was  taller 
than  Garth,  and  his  hair  was  straight,  and 
he  hadn't  eyes  like  Garth — I'm  sure  of  that 
— and  his  nose  and  mouth  were  different. 
Fact  is,  I  don't  know  just  how  it  was,  and  I 
am  not  a  good  hand  at  putting  likenesses, 
anyway." 

"  Are  there  any  half-breeds  in  Europe  ? " 
demanded  Madge.  "Perhaps  he  stole  Mrs. 
Tenterden's  money." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Uncle  Golightley. 
"  Then  we  must  get  Garth  to  give  him  an- 
other thrashing.  Ha!  ha!"  . 

"  How  lonely  you  must  have  been,  Mar- 
garet, dear,  when  everybody  had  gone  to 
Europe  and  left  you  behind !  If  I  were  you, 
I  would  make  Mr.  Garth  give  a  pretty  strict 
account  of  his  acquaintances  while  he  was 
abroad.  I,  for  my  part,  think  it's  very  sus- 
picious when  a  young  man  stays  away  so 
long  from  the  lady  he's  engaged  to,"  said 
mischievous  Mrs.  Tenterden. . 

"By  George,  Garth,  that's  a  fair  sus- 
picion !  "  cried  Golightley,  entering  loudly 
into  the  spirit  of  the  fun.  "  Come,  who 
knows  but  what  you  have  a  full-fledged 
Don  Juan  under  that  red  shirt  of  yours! 
Let  us  constitute  ourselves  a  committee  of 
inquiry." 

Garth,  who  had  been  giving  his  attention 
to  the  horses  during  the  latter  few  minutes, 
faced  about  again  at  this  attack. 

"  Be  careful,"  said  he ;  "  for  if  you  guess 
the  truth,  I  shall  confess  it." 

"  This  is  getting  serious,"  observed  Go- 
lightley. "  Perhaps,  in  deference  to  the  feel- 
ings of  some  of  those  present,  we  had  better 
let  this  unfortunate  matter  rest." 

"  Well,  I  was  down  to  the  post-office  this 
morning,"  said  Mrs.  Danver — who,  although 
not  chargeable  with  any  quick  appreciation 
of  the  humorous,  was  happy  to  be  able  to 
contribute  her  item  to  the  discussion — "  and 
Mr.  Stacy  said  to  me  there  was  a  foreign  let- 
ter come  for  Mr.  Garth  Urmson." 

"  I  declare,  Mr.  Garth,"  cried  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden, laughing,  "that  does  look  very — 
very —  Do  you  admit  receiving  foreign  let- 
ters?" 


Garth  again  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  pulled  out  a  fold  of  blue  letter-paper. 
"Here  it  is,"  said  he. 

"  The  letter  is  in  evidence,  and  should  be 
read,"  affirmed  Uncle  Golightley,  in  his  self- 
assumed  character  of  Madge's  counsel. 

"I  have  read  it,"  rejoined  Garth,  with  a 
smile ;  "  but  that  must  suffice  for  the  present. 
You  will  all  probably  know  the  contents 
hereafter."  And  he  thrust  the  fold  of  blue 
paper  back. 

Hereupon  the  Rev.  Mr.  Graeme,  who  had 
been  sitting  in  seeming  oblivion  of  external 
things  for  some  time  past,  began  to  chuckle 
inwardly.  At  length,  when  every  one's  face 
was  more  or  less  set  working  by  the  conta- 
gion of  his  stupendous  mirth,  he  found  utter- 
ance as  follows : 

"Ho!  ho!  Foreign  letters  don't  come 
as  often  as  they  did  a  while  ago,  when  Cuth- 
bert,  poor  lad,  used  to  hear  from  Europe  four 
or  five  times  a  year,  telling  him  he'd  been 
drawn  on  for  a  thousand  dollars  and  odd,  and 
signed — haw  !  haw !  haw ! — '  Your  af — '  " 

What  the  signature  was  will  never  be 
known ;  for,  before  it  could  leave  the  forget- 
ful old  gentleman's  lips,  the  wagon  suddenly 
swerved  violently  to  the  left,  and  Garth 
shouted,  in  a  voice  that  might  have  done 
credit  to  the  stentorian  parson  himself  in 
his  best  days,  "Look  out  for  your  heads, 
everybody ! " 

Everybody  crouched  instinctively,  and 
the  overhanging  branch  of  a  tree  swept 
close  above  them.  The  horses,  taking  ad- 
vantage, as  it  seemed,  of  their  driver's  care- 
lessness, had  shied  off  the  roadway,  and 
hence  the  accident.  Everybody  escaped  ex- 
cept Uncle  Golightley,  whose  hat  was  taken 
off;  but  such  was  his  agility  that,  almost 
before  any  one  else  had  remarked  his  mis- 
hap, he  had  vaulted  from  the  wagon  and  was 
running  toward  the  place  where  it  had  fallen, 
laughing  loudly  at  the  adventure ;  and  when, 
having  picked  it  up  and  clapped  it  jauntily 
on  his  head,  he  had  overtaken  the  others, 
his  amusement  at  the  adventure  was  still  un- 
subdued. 

Garth  had  halted  his  horses,  partly  out 
of  consideration  for  Mrs.  Tenterden,  who. 
like  most  of  her  sex  possessing  ample  physi- 
cal development,  was  timorous  as  a  rabbit, 


CAPTIVE. 


139 


and  who  now  needed  time  to  convince  her- 
self that  neither  she  nor  any  other  member 
of  the  party  had  actually  been  deprived  of 
life ;  and,  when  that  point  had  been  settled, 
she  was  moved  to  expostulate  with  Garth 
for  his  recklessness  in  putting  so  many  lives 
in  jeopardy. 

"  Now,  just  suppose  we'd  all  been  killed! 
I'm  sure  its  providential." 

"  Yes,  it  was  an  escape,"  responded  Garth, 
gravely,  eying  Uncle  Golightley  as  he  spoke. 
"  But  a  hat  is  no  great  loss,  especially  when 
it  can  be  picked  up  again.  "We  have  but  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  go.  Jump  in,  sir." 

"  Since  we're  so  near,  I  have  a  mind  to 
stretch  my  legs  a  little  along  this  charming 
forest  path,"  said  Golightley.  "Au  revoir, 
though  I'm  a  quick  walker,  and  shall  prob- 
ably keep  you  in  sight  most  of  the  way.  By- 
the-by,  I  wonder  if  Miss  Elinor  would  con- 
sent to  keep  me  company  ?  " 

Elinor  had  not  uttered  a  syllable  since 
the  accident,  but  had  turned  more  than  usu- 
ally pale.  "While  Mr.  Graeme  was  speaking, 
she  had  looked  point-blank  at  Golightley; 
after  that  she  paid  no  more  attention  to  him 
until  he  spoke  her  name. 

She  then  stood  up,  and  began  to  make 
her  way  to  the  end  of  the  wagon,  Parson 
Graeme,  with  elephantine  gallantry,  lending 


her  a  helping  hand  over  the  seats,  while  Mrs. 
Tenterden  and  Mrs.  Danver  pursued  her  with 
exhortations  and  advice.  Golightley  stood 
ready  to  receive  her  at  the  end  of  her  pas- 
sage, but  she  sprang  quickly  to  the  ground 
without  touching  his  offered  hand. 

"Good-by,"  cried  Madge,  smiling,  and 
kissing  her  hand.  "  Now  you  are  going  to 
talk  secrets." 

Golightley  gayly  beckoned  a  parting  salute 
with  his  uplifted  finger-tips.  "  We're  only 
in  quest  of  an  appetite.  Don't  eat  up  all  the 
nuts  and  grapes  before  we  get  there." 

u  Shall  we  carry  yoiir  hat  for  you? "  in- 
quired Garth,  as  he  gathered  up  his  reins, 
"or  do  you  think  you  can  risk  wearing  it 
yourself?  " 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  I  believe  I  won't 
trouble  you,"  was  the  reply.  "You  know, 
I  can  keep  out  of  the  way  of  branches  better 
on  foot  than  in  your  old  hay-rigging." 

Garth  spoke  to  his  horses,  and  the  spring- 
less  vehicle  trundled  off,  bouncing  along  the 
uneven  wheel-ruts,  and  was  soon  lost  to 
sight  round  the  bend  of  the  lane.  The  two 
pedestrians  were  thus  thrown  upon  their 
own  resources  for  mutual  entertainment. 
They  advanced  at  a  leisurely  pace,  side  by 
side,  but  not  arm-in-arm,  and  conversing 
with  earnestness  and  animation. 


BOOK  VI. 
LOVE-MAKING   AND    FLIRTATION. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

CAPTIVE. 

ELIXOE  was  angry:  the  delicate  color 
which  rose  and  fell  in  her  face,  and  the  tone 
of  her  voice,  showed  that  plainly  enough. 
At  such  moments  she  stood  revealed  as  pre- 
eminently of  an  emotional  temperament. 
Her  customary  disguise  of  cold  indifference 
became  transparent,  and  could  never  again 
mislead.  The  feeling  that  was  in  her  frankly 


and  pungently  expressed  itself;  it  tingled 
forth  through  every  avenue  of  gesture  and 
aspect.  Like  a  child,  she  would  forget  her- 
self in  the  generous  vehemence  of  her  utter- 
ance, though  never  overstepping  that  which 
lay  deeper  than  consciousness  itself — the  in- 
nate, vital  law  of  ladyhood.  Not  that  this 
subtile  restraint  would  render  her  indigna- 
tion less  formidable.  Bitter  is  a  woman's 
tongue ;  but  the  tongue  of  a  lady  can  prick 
like  an  envenomed  needle ! 


140 


GARTH. 


But  Golightley  was  not  disheartened,  j 
He  had  a  well-grounded  confidence  in  his 
strategical  and  persuasive  ability,  and  in  his 
knowledge  of  Elinor's  temper.  He  had  no 
doubts  of  his  ability  to  explain  things. 
Moreover,  he  was  versed  in  the  ways  of 
women  enough  to  know  how  not  to  exas- 
perate them — a  rare  accomplishment.  Eli- 
nor pointedly  avoided  touching  him,  for 
with  her  a  mental  or  moral  antagonism  was 
inevitably  carried  into  physical  manifesta- 
tion ;  but  although  he  was  particularly  fond 
of  laying  his  hands  on  people,  especially  if 
they  were  young  and  pretty  women,  he  took 
not  the  least  offense,  but  maintained  his 
gentlemanly  hilarity  at  its  full  height.  lie 
prattled  on  engagingly  about  the  woods  and 
the  weather,  the  freedom  and  simplicity  of 
country-life,  and  the  happy  prospects  of  the 
present  party,  and  met  all  Elinor's  stabbing 
little  rejoinders  with  an  artless  mildness  that 
showed  no  wound.  At  length  she  turned 
upon  him  with  dilated  eyes  and  fell  intent. 

"Mr.  Urmson,  I  should  like  to  know 
what  you  think  Mr.  Graeme  was  going  to 
say  when  he  was  interrupted  ? " 

"  My  dear  Elinor,  I  didn't  interrupt  him. 
"Why  didn't  you  ask  him,  or  the  horses,  or 
perhaps  our  friend  Garth,  who  made  most 
of  the  noise?" 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  fairer  to  ask  you. 
I'd  been  looking  at  you,  and  it  struck  me 
that  you  were  most  concerned  in  it,  and  that 
Mr.  Garth  knew  it." 

""What  most  struck  me,"  observed  Go- 
lightley, comically,  "  was  the  branch  of  that 
confounded  tree  that  took  my  hat  off.  Now, 
Elinor,  don't  be  cross,  but  tell  me  frankly 
what's  the  matter." 

"It  was  the  way  you  looked,"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  an  impulse  of  shame  and  re- 
sentment at  being  forced  to  explain  herself 
on  so  ignoble  a  matter.  "  Any  one  might 
speak  against  you ;  but  I  couldn't  be  mistak- 
en in  what  your  own  face  said.  If  what  you 
have  told  us  about  the  way  things  stand  be- 
tween you  and  your  brother  is  not  true,  Mr. 
Urmson  .  .  .  how  could  you  dare  to  do  it? 
You  looked  so  frightened  at  what  he  was 
going  to  say — oh,  dear  me! — and  when  that 
interruption  came,  you  looked  so  thankful, 
and  you  were  ia  such  a  hurry  to  get  out 


after  your  hat,  that  it  came  into  my  mind 
the  name  Mr.  Graeme  would  have  spoken 
was  yours.  "Well,  that's  all  I  have  to  say." 

"By  George!  it  would  serve  you  right 
if  I  were  mortally  offended,"  remarked  Go- 
lightley, stroking  his  beard  musingly,  and 
wrinkling  his  forehead.  "  I  wish  I  wasn't 
so  good-natured.  Here  is  Miss  Elinor  tell- 
ing me  that  I've  been  begging  all  my  life 
of  my  brother,  instead  of  giving  him  mon- 
ey, as  I  pretended,  and  that  I  was  so  afraid 
of  detection  that  I  jumped  out  of  a  hay- 
rigging  and  ran  away!  And  she  insin- 
uates that  Garth — a  good-looking  fellow, 
much  younger  than  I  am — improvised  the 
accident  to  save  my  credit!  I  am  too  good- 
natured — by  George,  I  am." 

"Do  I  wish  you  to  be  good-natured?" 
exclaimed  the  young  lady,  with  contemptu- 
ous lips.  Golightley  wiped  his  forehead 
with  his  handkerchief  and  sighed.  "And, 
oh !  how  you  have  made  me  wrong  your 
brother ! "  she  continued,  vehemently.  "  Tell 
me  what  is  the  truth,  quick,  Mr.  Urmson ! 
I  can't  bear  this." 

"Now,  my  dear  Elinor,"  said  Golightley, 
in  a  large  tone  of  charity,  "you  are  making 
a  great  to-do  about  nothing,  and  you  will  be 
very  sorry  before  long.  Yon  dear  child, 
what  a  terrible  puzzle  and  fume  you  have 
got  yourself  into,  to  be  sure !  Let  me  see  if 
I  can't  clear  you  up  and  make  you  all  happy 
again.  I'm  not  sure  I'd  do  it  merely  on  my 
own  account;  but  my  brother  Cuthbert  is 
one  of  the  best  and  noblest  of  men,  and  I 
must  put  him  in  a  right  light,  come  what 
come  may." 

This  honorable  exordium  might  have 
made  more  impression  upon  Elinor  had  not 
the  inward  turmoil  of  her  wrath  muffled  her 
ears,  and  disordered  her  understanding  to 
such  an  extent  that  she  scarcely  heard  what 
her  companion  was  saying.  She  walked 
along  with  her  teeth  set  edge  to  edge,  and 
an  expression  which  she  meant  should  be 
impassive,  though,  in  fact,  it  was  very  far 
from  being  so.  But  Golightley  was  sure  of 
his  ground,  and  proceeded  with  all  his  cus- 
tomary self-possession  : 

"  If  there  were  only  a  recognized  law  of 
the  Medes  and  Persians,  which  changeth  not, 
about  primogeniture  in  this  country,  I  dare 


CAPTIVE. 


141 


say  it  would  be  a  good  thing  in  some  ways. 
I  believe  it's  still  in  some  vogue  down 
South ;  but  we  Down-Easters  go  in  for 
equal  rights  in  our  families  as  well  as  in  our 
politics.  But  the  Urmson  family — either 
purposely  or  accidentally — have  always  set- 
tled the  bulk  of  the  property  on  the  eldest 
son,  and  packed  the  younger  ones  off  with  a 
few  dollars  in  their  pockets  to  get  along  the 
best  way  they  could.  It  was  as  much  a 
matter  of  course  with  us  as  it  had  been  be- 
fore we  emigrated ;  although,  mind  you,  it 
was  perfectly  free  to  us  to  change  the  order 
of  things  whenever  we  pleased." 

By  this  time  Elinor's  mind  had  a  little 
recovered  its  poise,  and  she  was  able  to  pay 
some  heed  to  what  followed. 

""Well,  now,  Cuthbert  being  the  eldest, 
it  was  an  understood  thing  that  the  estate 
went  to  him :  I  never  thought  of  questioning 
it,  for  one ;  and  besides,  you  see,  there  was 
the  old  captain's  will,  dated  after  his  first 
marriage — that  is,  dated  before  ever  I  was 
born  or  thought  of — distinctly  bequeathing 
everything  to  him.  All  I  could  expect 
would  be  a  codicil  giving  me  something 
to  begin  the  world  on.  As  it  happened, 
though,  there  wasn't  even  a  codicil  for  me ; 
though  there  was  a  provision  made  for  Eve 
or  her  descendants,  in  case  any  of  them 
should  turnup.  The  truth  is — ha!  ha! — I 
wasn't  much  loved  by  my  good  father,  and, 
my  mother  dying  so  early,  there  was  no  one 
to  take  my  part." 

Elinor's  face  softened  at  this  indirect 
appeal :  she  could  not  but  sympathize ;  for 
though  Mrs.  Tenterden  loved  her  quite  as 
much  as  if  she  were  her  own  daughter,  yet 
it  was  not  with  the  love  of  the  mother  Eli- 
nor had  lost,  and  the  difference  was  such 
as  a  girl  of  Elinor's  disposition  would  be 
specially  alive  to. 

"Now,  my  dear,"  continued  Golightley, 
repressing  a  strong  desire  to  take  Elinor's 
hand,  and  contenting  himself  with  smooth- 
ing forward  his  hair  on  his  temple,  "  it  is 
enough  to  say,  as  regards  Cuthbert,  that 
this  will  is  the  only  one  he  ever  saw  or 
knows  anything  about ;  consequently,  he  al- 
ways has  believed,  and  believes  now,  that  the 
entire  property,  except  the  provision  made  for 
Eve's  possible  descendants,  belongs  to  him." 


"  But  you  told  mother  and  me  that  you 
had  been  supporting  him  ever  since  Captain 
Brian  died.  What!  were  there  two  wills?" 
she  added  quickly,  with  a  searching,  half- 
distrustful  glance  at  him. 

Golightley  caressed  himself  musingly  for 
a  full  minute  before  replying.  "  When  I 
made  that  assertion  to  you  and  Mildred,"  he 
said,  slowly,  "  I  was  thinking  of  facts.  We 
weren't  thinking  of  coming  here  then,  and, 
of  course,  I  never  contemplated  having  to 
explain  matters  on  poor,  dear  Cuthbert's 
account.  It  wasn't  likely  that  the  particu- 
lars would  interest  you,  and  I  never  was 
much  given  to  tooting  my  own  whistle. 
And,  even  now,  my  dear  child,  I  sha'n't 
make  any  direct  assertions  in  self-vindica- 
tion. I  haven't  kept  silence  all  my  life  to 
break  it  now.  If  you  are  bent  on  damning 
me  on  the  evidence  of  my  changes  of  counte- 
nance, and  Garth  stopping  a  wagon,  you 
probably  wouldn't  really  wish  me  to  bring 
forward  better  evidence  in  my  defense. 
However,  I  can  put  a  few  things  to  you 
hypothetically,  as  it  were,  and  so  leave  the 
matter  in  your  hands.  Now,  I  have  good 
reason  to  believe  that,  though  I  didn't  please 
my  father,  my  mother  really  did  love  me, 
and  it's  fair  to  suppose  that  she  would  wish 
me  to  be  well  provided  for ;  and,  since  my 
father  was  entirely  devoted  to  her,  it's  fair 
to  suppose  that  her  wishes  would  have  the 
greatest  influence  on  him ;  but  she  died 
when  I  was  a  baby  ;  so  that,  supposing  my 
father  had  been  persuaded  to  do  anything 
or  everything  for  me,  you  see  he  had  a  score 
of  years  or  so  to  think  better  of  it  in,  and 
go  back  to  his  first  purpose." 

"  But  her  dying  wish  !  " 

"  Well,  but  to  go  on  with  our  hypothesis. 
You  suggested  a  second  will  just  now.  I 
don't  say  there  was  one,  but  you  see  how 
there  might  have  been  one,  and  also  why 
there  might  have  been  an  intention  to  de- 
stroy it.  And,  then,  not  being  at  all  a 
methodical  man,  he  might  easily  have  mis- 
laid it,  or  thought  he  had  destroyed  it,  per- 
haps. Then,  by-and-by,  you  can  imagine 
an  inquisitive  boy,  left  pretty  much  to  his 
own  devices,  ransacking  the  old  garret,  for 
lack  of  something  better  to  do,  and  coming 
across —  By-the-by,  my  dear  Elinor,  don't 


142 


GARTH. 


you  remember  a  very  tiresome  ghost-story 
I  was  trying  to  amuse  you  all  with  the  other 
night  ? " 

U0h!"  murmured  Elinor,  raising  her 
hand  to  her  forehead,  and  then  letting  it 
fall,  abruptly.  Such  impromptu  side  con- 
firmations often  carry  conviction  more  sure- 
ly than  ordinary  demonstration.  "  Why 
don't  you  speak  straight  out  ?  I'm  feverish 
with  this  '  supposing,' "  she  exclaimed. 
"  The  truth  can  be  trusted." 

"Ha!  ha!  I  don't  know  about  that; 
the  truth  is  about  the  only  wild  beast  that 
nobody  has  been  able  to  tame.  But  I  will 
trust  you,  my  dear,  and  I  won't  bother  you 
any  more.  There  isn't  much  more  to  it. 
My  father  sent  me  to  England  with  a  couple 
of  thousand  pounds,  and  nothing  was  said 
about  lost  wills  on  either  side.  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  fight  my  own  way,  and  hold 
ray  tongue.  Cuthbert  had  a  wife,  and,  of 
course,  would  need  a  settled  property  more 
than  a  flighty,  unencumbered  bachelor  like 
me.  Cuthbert  behaved  like  the  gentleman 
he  always  has  been,  and  offered  to  go  halves 
with  me ;  but  I  told  him  if  ever  I  needed  a 
trifle  to  help  me  out  of  a  scrape,  why,  I'd 
apply  to  him ;  but  I  couldn't  consent  to 
anything  more.  The  devil  of  it  is,"  said 
Golightley,  pulling  forward  his  hair,  and 
glancing  at  Elinor,  "  that  I  have  been  obliged 
to  apply  to  him  pretty  often.  I  met  with 
such  a  confounded  lot  of  ill-health  and  ill- 
luck  as  brought  me  high  and  dry  more  than 
once.  Oh,  I  don't  set  up  for  a  saint  at  all ; 
still,  you  see,  I  might  have  been  worse." 

"  O  Mr.  Urmson  !  "  was  all  Elinor  found 
to  say.  She  bent  her  head,  and  her  arms 
drooped  at  her  sides. 

"  I  had  the  best  of  poor  Cuthbert,  didn't 
I?"  continued  Golightley;  "not  only  had 
the  pleasure  of  helping  him  without  his 
knowing  it,  but  the  pleasure  of  giving  him 
the  pleasure  of  being  generous  to  me.  It 
was  just  as  generous  in  him,  yon  know,  as 
if  the  means  had  really  been  his.  To  be 
sure,  I  had  to  put  up  with  some  people's 
thinking  me  a  sponge,  and  with  one  young 
lady's  thinking  me  both  a  sponge  and  a 
story-teller ;  but  I'd  do  more  than  that  for 
dear  old  Cuthbert ;  and,  now  that  I've  got 
my  little  pile  all  safe,  I  hope  to  do  at  least 


as  much — and  for  Master  Garth,  too.  By-the- 
by,  as  to  that  wagon-accident,  I'm  afraid  I  did 
the  dear  boy  great  injustice.  My  first  idea 
was  that  the  venerable  parson  was  alluding 
to  his  letters  home  for  remittances,  and  that 
Garth,  naturally  disliking  to  have  the  subject 
ventilated  in  public,  stopped  the  venerable 
tongue  in  the  only  way  he  could.  But  it 
occurs  to  me,  on  second  thoughts,  that 
Garth,  ten  to  one,  supported  himself  during 
his  travels— portrait-painting,  and  so  forth  ; 
and  so  I  am  really  the  guilty  one,  after  all. 
And  Miss  Elinor  doesn't  consider  me  fit  to 
be  spoken  to." 

Elinor  turned  to  him  with  as  sad  a  smile 
as  ever  glimmered  in  a  young  lady's  eyes. 
"  If  you  consider  me  fit  to  be  shaken  hands 
with,  will  you  do  it  ? "  she  asked.  "  Oh, 
you  don't  know  how  much  you  have  to  for- 
give!" 

Nor  did  he  seek  to  know,  though  the  in- 
quiry might  not  be  uninteresting.  For  it  is 
perhaps  to  be  feared  that  her  extraordinary 
suspicion  of  Golightley  could  hardly  have 
taken  such  sudden  and  vigorous  root  in  a 
reluctant  or  even  impartial  soil.  The  truth 
probably  was  that,  disliking  the  man  in- 
stinctively as  much  as  she  was  forced  to  es- 
teem and  admire  him  on  principle,  she  had 
snatched  at  the  mere  shadow  of  a  dishonor- 
able appearance  in  him  with  the  half-de- 
spairing hope  of  proving  it  a  substance,  and 
thus  justifying  her  blind  intuition,  and  free- 
ing herself  forever,  at  this  latest  moment, 
from  a  union  to  which  she  was  painfully 
averse. 

The  issue  was  a  double  punishment  to 
her  sinister  desire.  Not  only  was  she  re- 
buked by  Golightley's  vindication,  but  she 
was  shamed  by  the  revelation  that  his  seem- 
ing falsehood  pointed  to  an  even  greater  no- 
bility of  conduct  than  he  had  yet  been  cred- 
ited withal.  He  was  verily  a  paragon  of 
generosity  and  self-sacrifice,  and  now  her 
defeat  left  her  with  neither  strength  nor 
purpose  to  contend  longer  against  whatever 
might  be  his  wish  regarding  her.  She  had 
but  one  offering  to  make  in  requital  of  her 
injurious  thought,  and,  if  he  chose  to  de- 
mand it,  she  must  not  refuse.  No  wonder, 
therefore,  if  her  smile  was  dismal  and  her 
gesture  spiritless. 


CAPTIVE. 


143 


Golightley,  on  the  other  hand,  brimmed 
over  with  the  milk  of  human  kindness  and 
self-satisfaction.  He  understood  his  victory 
and  its  value;  he  felt  himself  distinctly  in 
love,  and  inclined  to  press  his  advantage.  In 
spite  of  his  worldly  experience,  he  was, 
under  certain  conditions,  a  susceptible  man, 
and  even  an  impulsive  one  ;  and  there  were 
few  things  that  suited  him  better  than  giv- 
ing expansive  utterance  to  warm  and  caress- 
ing sentiments.  He  took  Elinor's  sad,  shrink- 
ing little  hand  between  both  of  his  own, 
then  lifted  it  to  bis  lips,  and  finally  tucked 
it  away  tenderly  under  his  arm. 

"My  sweet  Elinor,"  he  began,  "I  must 
not  let  this  crimson  and  gold  path  come  to 
an  end  without  asking  for  one  golden  hope. 
A  year  ago  I  broke  in  upon  your  mourning 
too  abruptly  and  heedlessly ;  I  was  full  of 
my  own  selfish  hopes  and  desires,  and  longed 
to  preserve  you  and  dear  Mildred  from  feel- 
ing the  pressure  of  the  straitened  circum- 
stances— " 

"Yes,  yes,  that  was — my  misgiving,"  in- 
terrupted Elinor,  who  was  now  pale  to  the 
lips.  "  I  am  proud,  Mr.  Golightley — I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  what  for — and  so  I  an- 
swered as  I  did,  because  I  couldn't  believe 
that  any  one  who  knew  me  well  enough  to 
care  for  me  could  find  anything  in  me  to 
care  about,  but  only  to  pity ;  and  I  was  too 
proud  to  be  pitied ;  and  I'm  sure  you  can't 
care  for  me." 

If  Golightley  had  not  persuaded  himself 
beforehand  that  Elinor  was  at  bottom  quite 
as  ready  to  marry  him  as  he  her,  the  be- 
seeching tremor  that  shook  this  last  sentence 
could  hardly  have  been  misinterpreted.  Be- 
ing thus  prejudiced,  however,  he  accepted 
it  as  a  tender  hint  to  proceed,  and  gallantly 
complied  with  it. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  little  girl !  I  see  you  have 
plenty  to  learn  on  some  subjects,  and  it  must 
be  my  privilege — lucky  dog  that  I  am ! — to 
spend  the  rest  of  ray  life  in  teaching  you,  by 
practical  example,  how  to  appreciate  your- 
self. I  will  only  say  now  that  you  are  the 
only  entirely  lovely  and  admirable  creature 
I  have  met.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  worthy 
of  you — what  man  is?  But  there's  a  sort  of 
poetical  compensation,  isn't  there?  in  our 
eoming  together  in  this  way,  a  healing  up 


of  the  old  legendary  feuds,  reconcilement  of 
Cavalier  and  Puritan,  eh  ? — ha,  ha !  Now,  my 
dearest  child,  if  you  think  you  can  ever  come 
to  put  a  value  on  the  devotion  of  an  elderly 
chap  like  me,  who  has  sown  his  wild-oats, 
such  as  they  were,  why,  you  know  how 
long  it  has  been  yours !  " 

After  a  moment  Elinor  stopped  in  her 
walk,  and,  pressing  her  forehead  against  Go- 
lightley's  arm,  burst  into  a  fit  of  tearless 
sobbing.  Her  companion's  words  had  smit- 
ten her  with  a  sense  of  desolation  and  exile. 
Youth  cannot  easily  be  reconciled  to  the 
sin-born  divorce  between  physical  and  spir- 
itual beauty  or  ugliness.  Had  Golightley, 
indeed,  been  indictable  merely  for  a  rude 
and  ungainly  outside,  Elinor  might  soon 
have  schooled  herself  to  endure  or  even  to 
love  this  for  the  sake  of  the  inward  loveli- 
ness. But  her  quarrel  lay  deeper.  Golight- 
ley was  comely  and  graceful  with  the  refine- 
ments of  society  and  culture,  and  her  aver- 
sion grew  from  an  instinctive  perception  of 
some  impalpable,  indescribable  quality  in. 
him  which  had  as  little  to  do  with  ordinary 
physical  repulsiveness  as  had  his  virtues 
with  his  good  looks.  In  short,  if  his  beauty 
were  mainly  spiritual,  his  ugliness  would 
seem  to  be  wholly  so.  What  malicious  per- 
versity of  Nature  was  this  ? 

Elinor  had  dreamed  her  virgin  dreams 
of  ideal  love,  wherein  all  was  harmony  and 
most  interior  satisfaction.  Was  the  fault  in 
her  or  in  the  world,  that  the  realization  was 
so  dreary?  If  this  love  were  heaven  on 
earth,  what  must  heaven  be?  And  why 
were  human  beings  endowed  with  longings 
and  intuitions  which  there  was  nothing  in 
heaven  or  earth  to  appease  and  justify? 
This  marriage  would  be  like  a  taking  of  the 
black  veil,  with  the  tragic  difference  that, 
instead  of  consecrating  her  to  a  mystic  and 
impersonal  union,  it  would  subject  her  in 
absolute  self-surrender  to  a  being  of  flesh 
and  blood.  Yet  if  she  could  not  surrender 
here,  what  place  had  she  in  the  world,  where 
a  worthier  love — one  built  on  less  seliish 
foundations — was  to  be  looked  for  ?  She 
was  bewildered,  and  so  forlorn  of  help  and 
sympathy,  that  she  was  clinging  to  the  very 
man  of  all  others  who  was  the  cause  of  her 
forlornness.  There  was  nothing  left  to  her 


144 


GARTH. 


but  him ;  and  perhaps  God,  in  requital  of 
her  sacrifice,  would  either  so  open  or  so  shut 
her  eyes  that  she  might  love  him  with  heart 
as  well  as  mind. 

"  Why  these  untimely  sobs,  dearest  lady- 
love?" cried  Golightley,  putting  his  arm 
round  her  waist,  encouragingly. 

Elinor  freed  herself  in  a  moment,  and 
stood  before  him  with  quivering,  breathless 
mouth  and  piteous  eyes,  rubbing  her  hands 
round  each  other  and  intertwining  her  fin- 
gers. 

"  I  think  the  best  thing  would  be  for  me 
to  die,  but  I  will  be  yours  if  you  want  me — 
if  you  think  you  ought  to  have  me.  Seems 
to  me  I  wasn't  made  to  love  as  other  people 
do.  If  I  must  live,  I  suppose  you  are  best 
for  me.  I  wish  I  were  more  like  other  girls. 
Perhaps  I  shall  become  better  by-and-by." 

"  Now,  my  sweetest  little  Elinor — " 

"Don't  speak  to  me  so!  "  she  broke  in, 
with  a  sudden,  startling  change  of  tone  and 
expression,  clinching  her  hands  and  setting 
her  teeth.  "  Why  are  you  always  so  soft 
and  kind,  humoring  my  foolishness  and  pet- 
ting ine  and  complying  with  me?  "Why 
don't  you  show  the  strength  that  must  be  in 
you  ?  Be  strong  and  commanding  with  me ! 
You  must  be  like  an  iron  man.  Never  be 
weak  and  yielding  to  me.  Mr.  Urrason,  I 
believe  there  is  a  devil  in  me  that  would 
tear  you  to  pieces  if  it  thought  it  could  mas- 
ter you.  I  want  strength  and  laws,  and  a 
will  over  me  like  Fate.  You  are  too  good — 
never  let  me  get  the  advantage  of  you  by  find- 
ing out  how  good  you  are." 

To  this  passionate  outburst  Golightley 
was  able,  at  the  moment,  to  oppose  nothing 
better  than  a  somewhat  nnmeaning  smile. 
He  was  not  one  of  the  rugged,  hammer-and- 
anvil  sort  of  men,  and  could  not  pretend  to 
be.  His  conquest  of  women  had  always 
been  accomplished,  not  by  main  force,  but 
by  finesse,  and  by  taking  cunning  advantage 
of  feminine  weaknesses.  Although  a  little 
daunted,  however,  he  was  not  seriously  dis- 
turbed. He  thought  he  understood  the  pow- 
er of  soft  methods  better  than  Elinor  did ; 
and,  moreover,  he  could  not  suppose  that 
this  strange  mood  was  other  than  transient. 
She  would  soon  calm  down,  and  take  her 
new  happiness  as  a  sensible  girl  should. 


Doubtless  it  would  require  tact  to  manage 
her  just  at  first ;  but  who  had  more  tact  than 
Golightley  himself?  He  had  not  lived  up- 
ward of  forty  years  in  the  world  for  noth- 
ing. 

"  Take  my  arm,  my  dear,"  he  said,  quiet- 
ly ;  "  we  shall  soon  learn  to  understand  each 
other.  You  have  made  me  the  happiest  of 
men,  and  I  am  not  going  to  ask  anything 
more  of  you  till  you  are  ready  to  give  it. — 
Ah,  we're  coming  to  the  end  of  our  golden 
path,  I  see ;  and  hark !  there  is  no  mistak- 
ing that  '  haw,  haw,  haw  ! '  We  must  be 
close  upon  them." 

In  a  few  steps  more  they  would  pass  the 
edge  of  the  wood,  and  come  in  view  of  the 
merry  picnickers.  Elinor  suddenly  tight- 
ened her  hold  on  Golightley's  arm,  and 
looked  up  at  him.  "  Kiss  me !  "  she  said, 
in  a  low,  imperious  tone  that  had  more  fierce- 
ness than  love  in  it;  "not  my  cheek — kiss 
my  lips!  "  He  knew  not  what  to  make  of 
it,  but  he  obeyed.  She  drew  a  long  tremu- 
lous breath,  and  after  a  moment  said :  "  It 
can  never  be  undone  now."  Golightley,  for 
his  part,  did  not  altogether  regret  that  their 
tete-d-tete  ended  simultaneously  with  this 
remark. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

DANCING    AND    FIDDLING. 

HALF  a  dozen  wagons  were  drawn  \ip 
side  by  side  on  the  edge  of  a  shallow  hollow. 
Overhead  vast  trees  spread  their  burly 
branches,  and  sent  their  yellow  leaves,  one 
after  another,  wavering  earthward,  carpet- 
ing the  glade  as  with  the  dying  sunshine  of 
the  dying  year.  At  the  farther  end  of  the 
stretch  of  turf  rose  a  granite  rock,  apparent- 
ly composed  of  three  separate  fragments,  so 
united  as  to  present  the  semblance  of  the 
roughest  imaginable  chair  or  throne,  with  a 
low  seat  and  high  encaverned  back — such  a 
throne  as  Hiawatha  might  have  held  his 
woodland  state  in.  The  forest  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  was  so  thinned  out 
that  the  place  might  almost  have  been  con- 
sidered a  pasture,  yet  it  was  wilder-looking 
than  where  the  growth  was  denser.  Knots 


DANCING  AND  FIDDLING. 


145 


and  ribs  of  rock  emerged  here  and  there 
nbove  the  uneven  surface  of  the  ground ; 
wild-apple  trees  crooked  their  fantastic  limbs 
on  the  knolls  and  ridges ;  crimson  clusters 
of  huckleberry-bushes  sprouted  on  all  sides, 
and  straggling,  unpruned  grape-vines,  heavy 
with  thick-skinned  purple  clusters,  coiled 
round  tree  and  bowlder  or  wriggled  prone 
along  the  earth.  The  tract  lay  high ;  at  a 
short  distance  roundabout  the  forest  thick- 
ened, and  billowed  away  on  all  sides  over 
unmeasured  leagues,  while  far  southward, 
at  the  farther  extremity  of  the  distant,  un- 
seen valley,  Wabeno  just  showed  the  crest 
of  his  dusky  mane. 

The  ancient  parson  was  bustling  about 
with  ponderous  decrepitude,  overseeing  the 
unloading  of  the  wagons.  Garth  had  freed 
his  horses  from  the  shafts,  and  was  leading 
them  away  to  a  comfortable  spot  by  the 
neighboring  brook-side.  Madge  was  assist- 
ing Mr.  Graeme,  or  rather  taking  charge  of 
him — deftly  righting  his  Avrong  doings,  and 
guiding  and  finishing  off  his  right  ones. 
Mrs.  Tenterden  had  mounted  a  small  hillock, 
whence,  with  her  gown  gathered  about  her 
in  one  hand  and  her  parasol  open  in  the 
other,  she  was  contemplating  the  scene  in  a 
solid,  majestic  sort  of  way,  as  though  she 
were  the  genius  of  the  place.  This,  how- 
ever, was  but  a  vain  appearance,  inasmuch 
as  she  was  really,  despite  her  vaunted  youth- 
ful experiences  of  country -life  on  the  planta- 
tion, infinitely  less  at  home  than  any  one  of 
the  company.  But  she  had  at  least  escaped 
from  that  dreadful  jolting  hay-rigging,  after 
which  anything  was  home-like. 

As  the  two  pedestrians  drew  near,  Eli- 
nor, to  Golightley's  renewed  surprise,  sent 
forth  her  voice  in  a  long,  loud  trill — a  throb- 
ing  scream  of  vehement  melody,  which  over- 
topped all  the  buzz  and  tumult  of  the  party, 
and  drew  upon  her  universal  attention.  No 
one  but  Elinor  knew  what  a  sore  burden 
went  out  on  the  wild  music  of  that  scream. 
Garth's  horses,  on  their  way  to  the  brook, 
threw  up  their  heads  and  pranced,  more  like 
battle- steeds  at  the  sound  of  a  trumpet 
than  the  sober-sided  old  farm  quadrupeds 
that  they  were ;  and  Garth  himself  felt  his 
heart  bound  and  his  brows  lift,  and  anon 
was  visited  by  a  reminiscence  of  that  other 
10 


outburst  at  the  lake,  and  was  angry,  he 
knew  not  why.  Meanwhile  Golightley,  not 
to  be  outdone,  swung  his  hat,  and  was  de- 
livered of  a  well-rounded  huzza ;  to  which 
the  whole  band  of  picnickers,  led  by  the 
reverend  Stentor,  bellowed  and  screamed 
a  noisy  response.  Mrs.  Tenterden  rashly 
waved  her  parasol ;  caught  by  the  breeze, 
it  overcame  her  balance,  and  she  came  tot- 
tering down  from  her  perch  with  desperate 
steps,  and  threw  herself,  with  an  involun- 
tary gesture  of  passionate  abandon,  into  the 
arms  of  the  mighty  minister.  Hereupon 
uprose  a  huge  volley  of  many-toned  laugh- 
ter, so  confusedly  echoing  from  every  side 
that  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  rocks  and  trees, 
and  the  wagons  and  the  babbling  brook, 
took  part  in  it.  In  the  midst  of  this  mirth- 
ful uproar  Elinor  and  Golightley  came  up, 
and  stood  the  centre  of  the  hilarious  assem- 
blage. Every  eye  was  turned  upon  her 
with  a  new  interest.  She  seemed  to  have 
advanced  at  one  step  from  the  position  of  a 
silent,  unnoticed,  somewhat  stiff- mannered 
young  lady  to  the  rank  of  a  leading  social 
favorite,  rivaling  Madge  on  her  own  ground, 
besides  being  mistress  of  another  to  which 
Madge  was  a  stranger.  There  are  sometimes 
epochs  in  a  life  when  the  reserved  soul  comes 
flushing  to  the  surface,  feels  its  deep  brother- 
hood with  humanity,  draws  recognition  and 
sympathy  therefrom,  and  for  an  hour  is  and 
does  that  which  shall  in  the  retrospect  as- 
tonish itself  and  its  companions,  though 
seeming  at  the  moment  more  true  to  Nature 
than  Nature's  self.  So  Elinor,  in  the  reac- 
tion from  her  passion  of  loneliness  and  re- 
pulsion, sprang  abruptly  into  an  intense  and 
homely  fellow-feeling  with  her  kind,  knew 
herself  one  with  them  in  each  intimate  trait 
of  soul  and  body,  felt  their  warm,  racy  life 
flowing  through  her  fine  blue  veins,  and  was 
conscious  thereby  of  a  new  unbounded  scope 
of  power  and  freedom.  She  forgot  her  frigid 
misgivings,  and  became  instinct  with  quaint, 
genial  delights.  How  easy,  sweet,  and 
many-sided  was  existence,  with  joys  like 
daisies  and  buttercups,  as  numerous,  as 
humble,  and  as  simply  gathered!  She  saw 
how  flimsy  were  the  barriers  of  aristocracy  : 
longed  to  be  of  the  mass,  to  act  and  think 
and  play  with  them,  to  hide  from  herself 


146 


GAETH. 


behind  their  wholesome  vulgarity,  and 
plunge  over  head  and  ears  in  safe  depths  of 
commonplace.  Withal  and  beneath  all,  she 
sadly  knew  this  humor  could  not  last,  that 
her  half-baffled  identity  was  on  her  track, 
and  soon  would  hunt  her  down,  and,  there- 
fore, she  yearned  to  taste  the  full  flavor  of 
the  flitting  time. 

"  What  shall  we  do  first  ?"  she  asked 
looking  smilingly  around  upon  the  smiling 
faces.  "  Let's  play  hide-and-seek,  or  blind- 
man's-buff",  or  let's  have  a  dance !  Oh,  yes, 
a  dance — shall  not  we,  Margaret?  because 
\ve  can  all  enjoy  that  together." 

"  Oh,  but  there's  no  fiddler,  miss,"  an- 
swered half  a  dozen  voices;  "the  fiddler's 
sick,  and  couldn't  come.  Old  Dave's  got 
his  rheumatics,  and  had  to  stay  back.  Have 
to  give  up  dancing  to-day,  I  guess." 

u  Oh  no,  we  sha'n't ! "  cried  Elinor, 
blushing  and  laughing.  "  I'm  so  glad  I 
brought  my  violin !  and  I'll  fiddle  for  you  as 
long  as  you  like.  Yes,  I  can,  really,  just  as 
well  as  Dave — can't  I,  Margaret? — Come  now, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  take  your  partners. — 
Mother,  yon  must  dance — you  must  dance 
with  Mr.  Graeme ;  I'm  sure  you  can't  refuse 
him.  Well,  but  what  is  the  dance  to  be  ? " 

"  Dear  life !  "  cried  Mrs.  Tenterden,  be- 
tween bewilderment  and  amusement,  as  the 
minister  made  her  a  mammoth  obeisance, 
and  presented  his  arm  ;  "  if  I  ever  thought 
of  anything  like  this! — Why,  Nellie,  I  de- 
clare you're  a  perfect  captain  !  " 

"  The  Virginia  Eeel,  boys  and  girls," 
proclaimed  Mr.  Graeme ;  "  in  honor  of  our 
Southern  visitors.  Bustle  about  now,  lads, 
and  choose  your  lassies ! — Here,  my  little 
lady,  let  me  help  you  to  the  choir-box — 
there  you  are  !  I  never  saw  you  before,  my 
dear  lass,  but  I  like  your  face  right  well. 
Ay,  the  fiddle — where  is  it  ? — there,  in  the 
box  !  All  ready  now — hold  on  !  where's 
Garth?  where  is  that  boy?  climbed  up  the 
chestnut  again  ?  Ho  !  ho !  ho !  Down  to 
the  brook — no,  here  he  is  back  again. — 
Hullo,  Garth  Urmson,  you're  late  !  no  part- 
ners left." 

Garth,  sauntering  moodily  up,  with  his 
hands  in  his  coat-pockets,  might  have  seen 
a  pretty  picture  had  his  eyes  been  open  to 
•it.  Elinor,  violin  in  hand,  was  standing  in 


Hiawatha's  throne,  whose  hollow  canopy 
rose  high  above  her  head,  while  the  rugged 
and  weather-worn  texture  of  the  rock  pict- 
uresquely contrasted  with  the  delicate  com- 
plexion and  clear-cut  features  of  the  slender 
and  stately  young  musician.  Down  the 
glade  in  front  of  her  were  ranged  the 
dancers  in  two  lines  facing  each  other,  the 
men  on  the  left  and  the  women  on  the  right, 
headed  respectively  by  Parson  Graeme  and 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  Golightley  and  Madge  stand- 
ing second.  The  misty  sunlight  slumbered 
over  this  scene  ;  the  great  trees  cast  tender 
shadows  across  it,  and  made  it  rich  with 
tributes  of  golden  leaves;  the  mighty  sky 
impended  infinite  above  all.  Amid  such  large 
surroundings,  the  full-grown  company  of 
human  beings  might  almost  have  been  taken 
for  a  band  of  frolic  elves,  joyously  preparing 
to  cut  fantastic  caprioles  to  the  music  of 
Titania's  bow.  The  spot  was  precisely  such 
a  one  as  imagination  would  have  fixed  upon 
for  a  fairy  meeting ;  and  the  sunshine  was 
so  moderated  and  mellowed  by  its  journey 
through  the  Indian-summer  atmosphere 
that  it  might  easily  take  the  place  of  the  en- 
chanted moonlight  of  elf-land. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Garth,  "  I'd  rather 
look  on  than  dance."  Accordingly,  he 
threw  himself  down  at  full  length  on  the 
slope  of  the  little  hollow,  clasped  his  hands 
beneath  his  head,  and  so  composed  himself 
for  the  spectacle. 

"  Turn  out  your  toes  now,  children — 
best  foot  foremost.  Let  drive  now,  my 
lass !  "  boomed  the  parson ;  and  with  the 
word  Elinor  waved  her  bow  and  let  it  caper 
across  the  strings,  and  the  reel  began. 

Never,  certainly,  since  picnics  began  had 
such  dance-music  been  heard  as  this.  It 
inspired  each  awkward  village  boy  and  girl 
and  dame  and  elder  with  the  nimble  spirit 
of  sylvan  nymphs  and  fauns.  Nobody  could 
keep  still.  Those  who  were  legitimately 
engaged  in  the  figure  naturally  threw  off"  all 
restraint,  whirling,  bounding,  and  gallopad- 
ing  as  if  all  laws  of  gravity,  both  physical 
and  metaphysical,  were  at  an  end  ;  but  the 
many  whose  turn  had  not  yet  come,  and 
upon  whom  it  was  incumbent  to  keep 
steadily  in  line,  found  it  a  task  beyond  their 
most  resolute  powers.  They  jigged  up  and 


A   COUPLE   OF  INNOCENTS. 


147 


down  and  to  and  fro  in  their  places,  waving  t 
their  arms,  swaying  their  bodies,  and  tilting 
their  heads  this  way%and  that,  like  so  many 
heathen  dervishes.  The  madcap  tune  set 
their  blood  dancing  in  their  veins,  their  eyes 
dancing  in  their  heads,  and  their  souls  dan- 
cing in  their  bosoms.  Old  people  and  young 
were  there  ;  yet  all  seemed  young  alike,  for 
it  was  odd  and  pleasant  to  see  how  the  boy- 
ishness and  girlishness  latent  in  the  aged 
ones  cropped  out  under  the  magic  influence 
of  the  violin,  as  fresh  as  ever  in  itself,  albeit 
sadly  thwarted  by  the  load  of  crusty  old 
years  which  had  been  silently  hardening 
over  it.  That  in  them  which  danced  was 
the  same  now  as  ever  in  childhood,  only  the 
fleshly  instrument  was  not  quite  so  handy. 

Parson  Graeme  had  in  ancient  times 
been  a  most  Titanic  performer,  dangerous  to 
be  within  reach  of  when  the  fit  was  on  him ; 
and  though  of  late  years  he  had  hardly  at- 
tempted to  do  more  than  hobble  through  a 
turn  or  two,  and  then  back  to  his  seat,  to- 
day he  seemed  to  cast  from  him  a  score  or 
so  of  his  supernumerary  winters,  and  to  re- 
call in  some  degree  the  heroic  achievements 
of  his  mighty  youth.  If  the  enormity  of  his 
gambolings  was  somewhat  subdued,  the  por- 
tentousness  of  his  enjoyment  was  no  less 
than  of  yore.  As  for  Mrs.  Tenterden, 
though  almost  young  enough  tobehisgrand- 
daughter,  she  was  less  than  a  match  for  him 
on  this  score ;  her  best  exertions  served  only 
to  keep  her  inevitably  in  the  way  of  the  rest- 
of  the  dancers,  where  she  revolved  slowly, 
first  in  one  direction  and  then  another, 
laughing,  breathless,  bewildered,  and  per- 
haps not  a  little  astonished  at  finding  her- 
self hail-fellow-well-met  with  such  a  number 
of  the  commoner  sort  of  people. 

Madge  and  Golightley  meanwhile  repre- 
sented the  refinements  of  the  art.  Golight- 
ley was  master  of  its  esthetics  and  scien- 
tifics,  and  entered  into  the  fun  of  the  thing 
with  a  kind  of  cultured  yet  humorous  vigor, 
which  contributed  greatly  to  the  popular  en- 
joyment. But  Madge  danced  with  a  grace 
and  poetry  of  motion  such  as  she  alone  was 
capable  of.  She  danced  with  complete  self- 
surrender,  spontaneous  and  care-free  as  the 
sparkle  of  a  fountain.  Here  was  an  end  to 
which  she  was  created;  here  was  fit  exer- 


cise for  her.  Faultless  and  nnweariable  were 
her  flying  steps.  She  made  dancing  seem 
something  worth  being  born  and  living  for  ; 
she  was  the  matchless  embodiment  of  the 
matchless  music.  Golightley,  though  his 
acquired  and  educated  proficiency  could  not 
rival  her  inborn  genius,  was  at  least  the 
worthiest  partner  she  could  have  chosen. 
Madge  had  never  liked  him  half  so  well  be- 
fore, nor,  on  the  other  hand,  had  she  ever 
appeared  so  fascinating  to  him.  This  was  a 
ground  on  which  they  could  meet  with  ut- 
most mutual  cordiality,  and  from  which  they 
might  proceed,  perhaps,  to  still  more  interior 
and  significant  degrees  of  sympathy. 

But  Elinor,  by  whose  skill  all  this  merry 
enchantment  was  wrought,  had  so  identified 
herself  with  the  spell  she  was  weaviug  that 
by-and-by  she  could  no  longer  distinguish 
between  herself  and  it.  It  seemed  to  her 
as  if  these  creatures  were  thus  gesticulating 
and  coming  and  going  solely  in  obedience  to 
a  fiat  of  her  will,  and  without  any  volition 
of  their  own.  They  moved  in  harmony 
with  the  wild  fancies  that  gamboled  through 
her  brain,  and  were,  in  fact,  nothing  more 
than  mystic  incarnations  thereof— a  sort  of 
visible  expression  of  her  fantastic  mood,  a 
palpable  reflection  of  her  rnind  !  This  quaint 
notion  so  worked  upon  her  imagination,  and 
thence  upon  her  violin,  as  to  elicit  a  yet 
crazier  development  of  the  hurrying  tune, 
immediately  responded  to  by  an  increased 
fury  on  the  dancers'  part ;  and  it  occurred 
to  Elinor  that,  if  she  should  happen  to  go 
mad,  the  whole  company  of  caperers  would 
have  no  choice  or  alternative  but  straight- 
way to  go  mad  likewise. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

A    COUPLE    OF   IXKOCENTS. 

ALL  this  time  Garth  was  lying  on  the 
slope  of  the  hollow,  precisely  as  he  had  at 
first  disposed  himself,  except  that  his  eyes, 
after  wandering  abstractedly  from  one  to 
another  of  the  Virginia  Reelers,  had  at 
length  settled  upon  Elinor,  and  did  not  again 
remove.  His  complete  physical  repose  was 


148 


GARTH. 


in  such  utter  contrast  to  the  frantic  unrest 
of  the  others  that  he  appeared  to  exist  in  a 
different  world,  or  rather,  as  Elinor  fancied, 
only  he  and  she  had  real  existence  at  all ; 
the  rest  were  mere  shapes  of  the  imagination, 
whose  sole  use,  little  as  they  might  think  it, 
was  to  interpret  between  her  and  him.  And 
what  was  it  that  she  would  communicate  to 
him  ?  Nothing  describable  ;  nothing  that 
words  could  convey  ;  nothing,  surely,  of  the 
slightest  practical  moment.  Nor  could  it  be 
aught  susceptible  of  being  hereafter  recalled 
and  brought  into  relation  with  matter-of- 
fact  and  normal  conditions.  Garth,  as  he 
existed  in  the  matter-of-fact  world,  was  any- 
thing but  congenial  to  her.  "What  sympathy 
could  she  have  with  a  man  capable  of  selling 
his  artistic  honor?  But  in  this  ecstatic  state 
something  like  a  one-sided  sort  of  communion 
appeared  not  only  possible,  but  inevitable ; 
and  hence  a  conceivability,  to  say  the  least, 
that  the  artist  of  form  and  color  might,  in 
some  primitive  and  paradisiacal  form  of  be- 
ing, have  met  and  held  fruitful  converse 
with  the  artist  of  sound.  The  transcenden- 
talism of  this  idea  made  it  harmless,  and  at 
the  same  time  rather  enhanced  its  attractive- 
ness. The  entire  fabric  of  it  must  vanish 
the  moment  the  violin-strings  had  ceased  to 
quiver  ;  therefore  let  its  evanescent  perfume 
be  enjoyed  to  the  full.  Was  Garth,  on  his 
side,  conscious  of  it  ?  Never  might  that  be 
known.  Yet  he  lay  so  still,  and  withal  so 
subtilely  awake,  it  seemed  as  though  he  alone 
could  comprehend  and  translate  the  inner 
meaning  of  that  whose  outward  effect  was 
but  to  inspire  a  score  of  queer  phantasms 
with  an  antic  frenzy.  The  vibrations  which 
whirled  them  in  idle  circles  like  dead  leaves, 
breathed  to  his  soul,  perhaps,  the  vague,  un- 
utterable secret  of  a  virgin's  heart. 

In  this  manner  it  came  to  pass  that  Eli- 
nor, when  the  Virginia  Keel  had  spun  itself 
out,  found  herself  in  an  apparently  quite 
other  mood  than  when  it  began;  neverthe- 
less, the  last  was  an  orderly  outcome  of  the 
first,  or  was  possibly  the  first,  more  inti- 
mately apprehended.  How  the  dance  ended, 
or  wherefore,  or  why  it  did  not  happen  to 
go  on  forever,  she  could  not  have  told;  but 
at  length  it  was  all  over  —  the  world  no 
longer  obeyed  the  laws  of  harmony ;  the 


dream-shapes  relapsed  into  the  vulgarity  of 
flesh  and  blood  ;  and  the  pale  musician 
stood,  with  her  violin  folded  in  her  arms, 
wondering,  like  the  re%t,  whence  the  late 
enchantment  had  come,  and  whither  it  had 
gone.  Garth  still  preserved  his  supine  im- 
mobility, and  made  no  sign. 

The  dancers  were  all  very  warm,  espe- 
cially Mrs.  Tenterden,  who  had,  however, 
exerted  herself  less  than  anybody.  They 
gradually  wandered  off,  singly,  or  in  pairs, 
to  seek  coolness  and  repose  hi  this  or  that 
shady  nook ;  the  big  minister  crawled  under 
the  largest  of  the  wagons,  and  instantly  fell 
asleep  ;  and  Mrs.  Tenterden  spread  her 
parasol  and  wandered  hither  and  thither, 
exclaiming,  panting,  and  declaring  that  she 
had  no  idea  an  Indian  summer  was  so  hot. 
Golightley  stood  fanning  himself  with  his 
hat,  and  wiping  his  forehead  with  his  scented 
pocket-handkerchief,  sending  the  while  oc- 
casional inquiring  glances  toward  Elinor, 
who,  however,  seemed  wholly  unconscious 
of  him  and  of  everybody  else.  Madge,  as 
the  result  of  some  little  reconnoitring,  dis- 
covered a  similar  insensibility  in  Garth ;  and 
thus  it  happened  that  the  late  partners  found 
themselves  thrown  back  upon  one  another — 
a  state  of  things  which  neither,  perhaps, 
altogether  regretted.  The  lady  proposed  a 
short  stroll  in  the  direction  of  the  tawny 
belt  of  woodland  on  the  left,  and,  the  gentle- 
man assenting  with  gallant  alacrity,  they 
presently  walked  off  together. 

When  they  had  threaded  their  Way  for 
a  few  minutes  through  the  living  pillars  of 
the  forest,  Madge  took  Golightley's  arm 
with  an  innocent  confidence  that  charmed 
him. 

"  How  beautifully  Miss  Elinor  plays !  " 
she  said.  "  How  happy  you  must  be,  dear 
Uncle  Golightley !  Mrs.  Tenterden  has 
been  telling  me  a  great  deal  about  how  you 
were  in  Europe — how  kind  and  helpful  you 
were  to  them,  you  know.  "What  a  delight- 
ful coincidence,  wasn't  it  ?  that  you  should 
become  rich  just  at  the  time  they  became 
poor ! " 

"Ah,"  said  Golightley,  putting  on  his 
hat  seriously,  "  those  things  that  we  call 
coincidences,  Miss  Margaret,  are  a  mystery  ; 
they  are  providential." 


A  COUPLE    OF  INNOCENTS. 


149 


"Oh,  do  you  believe  in  providence?" 
exclaimed  she,  softly.  "  I'm  so  glad !  be- 
cause, if  you  do,  surely  everybody  can — you 
are  so  wise,  you  know.  But  how  funny 
providence  is  sometimes !  One  would  think 
it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  take  the  money 
out  of  poor  Mrs.  Tenterden's  hand  only  to 
put  it  into  yours  ;  because,  you  see,  you  use 
it  to  take  care  of  Mrs.  Tenterden  and  Miss 
Elinor,  just  as  he  did.  However,  I  dare  say, 
you  have  a  better  right  to  it  than  he  had — 
I  mean,  you  understand  better  what  it's 
worth." 

"  H'm !  what  I  should  have  preferred,  of 
course,  would  have  been  that  poor  John 
should  remain  affluent,  whatever  the  state 
of  my  fortunes." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Madge.  "  But  I 
suppose,"  she  added,  reflectively,  "  there's 
only  a  certain  amount  of  money  in  the  world, 
and  what  one  loses  another  gets.  And  it's 
particularly  providential,  to  be  sure,  this 
time,  because  Mrs.  Tenterden  is  the  daughter 
of  your  mother,  and  it  was  from  your  mother 
that  the  money  first  came." 

"  Eh  ?  What  a  clever  little  head  you've 
got,  Miss  Maggie  !  "  said  Golightley,  with  an 
avuncular  smile.  "  But  I  believe  you'ro  a. 
little  beyond  me  now." 

"  Now  you're  making  fun  of  me,  Uncle 
Golightley.  I  know  how  stupid  I  am,"  re- 
joined Miss  Maggie.  "All  I  meant  was 
that  since  it  was  only  by  a  sort  of  accident 
that  your  mother  got  separated  from  your 
father,  after  their  first  meeting  down  there 
in  Virginia,  it  is  a  sort  of  accident,  too,  that 
Mrs.  Tenterden  ever  was  born,  and  so  it's 
another  accident — now  don't  laugh  at  me ! 
— that  all  the  money  didn't  belong  to  you; 
and  not  only  all  your  mother's,  Uncle  Go- 
lightley, but  all  your  father's,  too  ;  because, 
you  see,  it's  just  as  much  an  accident  that 
your  brother  Cuthbert  was  born  as  that  Mrs. 
Tenterden  was." 

Golightley  threw  back  his  head  and 
laughed  loudly.  "  By  George  !  Why,  what 
a  little  casuist  you  are !  Ha!  ha!  I  don't 
know  what  Cuthbert  and  Mildred  would  say 
to  being  told  that  they  .were  nothing  but  a 
sort  of  faux  pas — eh?  Ha!  ha!  He  glanced 
narrowly  at  her  from  underneath  his  blue 
glasses ;  she  was  stepping  along  with  her 


.  finger  on  her  lip,  which  seemed  to  pout  a 
little,  as  if  she  were  childishly  resentful  of 
being  made  fun  of ;  but  the  broad  brim  of 
her  hat  so  overshadowed  her  lovely  face 
that  he  could  not  be  certain  whether  he 
read  her  expression  aright.  He  fancied  at 
one  moment  that  she  partly  returned  his 
glance  from  the  corner  of  her  long,  dark 
eye. 

"  Oh,  there's  a  good  grape-vine  !  "  she 
exclaimed,  suddenly,  pointing  to  a  huge  oak- 
tree,  which  had  died  in  the  grasp  of  a  vine 
which  seemed  almost  as  old  as  itself,  though 
abounding  with  fruit.  "  What  a  splendid 
bunch  that  is !  Oh,  thank  you  !  But  here's 
too  much  for  one  person  to  eat ;  you  must 
therefore  go  shares  with  me,  Uncle  Golight- 
ley." 

"  Ah  !  with  pleasure.  I  can  never  refuse 
to  go  shares  with  you  in  anything,  Miss 
Margaret,"  said  Uncle  Golightley,  with  an 
indulgent  smile.  "  These  grapes,  though," 
he  added,  after  eating  a  few,  "  are  not  worthy 
of  the  occasion.  Ah!  if  you  could  have 
eaten  grapes  with  me  in  Italy  and  France! 
Well,  who  knows  but  we  may  all  meet  there 
one  of  these  days?  Garth,  of  course,  being 
an  artist,  will  steer  for  Kome  and  Florence 
as  soon  as  he  can  weigh  anchor  here  ;  and, 
as  for  me,  I  fear  it  may  turn  out  that  I've 
been  an  exile  too  long  to  take  kindly  to  my 
native  soil  at  this  late  day." 

"  Tell  me  why  you  came  back  here  at 
all?"  demanded  Madge,  abruptly,  resuming 
his  arm  and  peeping  brightly  at  him  from 
beneath  her  shadowy  hat-brim.  "  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden says  it  was  decided  on  so  suddenly 
that  she  had  hardly  time  to  pack  up.  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  think  was  the  reason,  shall 
I  ? — you  won't  be  angry  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  you  can  say,  my  dear," 
affirmed  Uncle  Golightley,  affectionately  pat- 
ting her  hand,  "  can  make  me  angry." 

"  Well,  then,"  she  continued,  with  a 
peculiarly  mischievous  smile,  "  it  was  be- 
cause you  were  frightened  away  by  your 
ghost.  Ah  !  you  were  just  a  tiny  bit  angry, 
after  all." 

"What  has  got  into  your  little  head? 
My  ghost !  Why,  I'm  not  dead  yet." 

"  You  know  very  well,  sir,  that  isn't  the 
ghost  I  mean.  I  mean  the  same  ghost  that 


150 


GARTH. 


you  saw  up  ia  the  garret  at  Urmhurst,  and 
went  down-cellar  with.  The  one  that 
opened  the  triangular  parchment,  you  know, 
which  was  dated  in  1781,  and  was  signed — 
you  won't  be  angry  if  I  tell  you  how  it  was 
signed?" 

"  Look  here,  Miss  Maggie,"  said  Golight- 
ley,  dropping  his  voice,  and  looking  cautious- 
ly about  him,  "  what  the  deuce  have  you  been 
up  to  ?  You  didn't  hear  anything  about 
dates  and  signatures  from  me,  nor  from  Mil- 
dred either,  lla!  ha!  Well,  here  I  am, 
talking  as  if  my  ghost-story  had  been  a  true 
tale." 

"You  didn't  know,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Go- 
lightley,  that  I  am  a  witch,"  returned  his 
charming  companion,  tossing  her  head.  "I 
know  all  sorts  of  strange  things  about  peo- 
ple, and  I  could  tell  you  everything  that  was 
in  that  parchment,  though  neither  I  nor  Ni- 
komis  can  imagine  why  the  ghost  should  hide 
it  away  in  the  grave  of  Nikomis's  ever-so- 
great  grandfather." 

"Nikomis's  ever  -  so  -  great  grandfather, 
was  it?" 

"Yes;  but  that's  a  secret,  and  you  must 
not  tell  anybody.  You  see,  I  tell  you  all  my 
secrets,  because  I  know  you  can  keep  secrets 
better  then  most  people,  especially  such  ones 
as  I  tell  you.  And  then  Nikomis  is  a  terri- 
ble witch,  and  if  she  were  to  hear  that  you 
had  spoken  about  her  to  any  one,  she  might 
get  angry  and  burn  you  up,  or  change  you 
into  somebody  else,  or  somebody  else  into 
you." 

"Dear  me!  and  how  would  she  manage 
that?" 

"  Oh !  "  laughed  Madge,  evidently  enjoy- 
ing her  own  grotesque  and  absurd  fancies, 
"by  muttering  some  spell  over  the  triangu- 
lar parchment,  I  suppose." 

Golightley  echoed  her  laugh,  though  in 
so  preoccupied  a  manner  that  it  was  plain 
he  must  be  thinking  of  something  else.  The 
two  walked  onward  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance in  silence,  for  Madge,  perceiving  that 
comething  had  given  his  meditations  a  seri- 
ous turn,  had  too  much  good-breeding  to 
break  in  upon  them  with  any  further  unfold- 
ing of  her  fanciful  conceits.  At  length, 
however,  Golightley  spoke,  and  himself  led 
back  the  current  of  talk  into  the  former 


channel,  as  though  the  quaint  humor  of  it 
had  taken  his  own  imagination  captive. 

"  How  long,  may  I  ask,  have  you  been 
in  the  witch-business,  Miss  Maggie?  " 

"Oh,  ever  so  long,"  she  replied.  "I  re- 
member Mkomis  gave  me  my  first  lessons 
when  she  lived  in  her  wigwam  in  the  woods, 
before  coming  to  Urmhurst.  But  the  time 
I  studied  most  in  witchcraft  was  while  Garth 
was  abroad.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do, 
hardly,  all  those  years.  I  learned  a  great 
deal.  In  some  ways  I  got  to  be  even  more 
of  a  witch  than  Nikomis ;  for  she  doesn't 
know  how  to  read,  you  see,  and  I  can  read 
in  two  or  three  languages,  and  that  is  very 
useful  in  some  kinds  of  witchcraft." 

"But  you  never  read  anything,"  pur- 
sued Golightley,  "  either  with  or  without  a 
signature,  that  gave  you  grounds  for  believ- 
ing that  I  had  been  frightened  by  a  ghost 
in  Europe  ?  Nikomis  doesn't  keep  a  Eu- 
ropean witch  correspondent,  I  fancy — eh? 
Ha!  ha!" 

"  Well,"  began  Madge,  hesitatingly,  and 
paused — then  suddenly  brightened  up  again, 
and  went  on.  "Yes;  we  have  a  corre- 
spondent who  travels  all  over  the  world,and 
in  Europe  as  well  as  in  other  places.  He 
sends  us  messages  every  once  in  a  while,  and 
then  Nikomis  and  I  get  inside  our  magic 
circle,  and  I  read  them  to  her.  And  there 
was  something  he  wrote  us  about  a  year  ago 
that  I  couldn't  quite  make  out;  but,  since 
you  told  us  your  ghost-story,  I  see  the  mean- 
ing of  it.  So  you  see,  Uncle  Golightley," 
she  added,  with  an  arch  glance,  "you  be- 
trayed yourself." 

Uncle  Golightley  shook  his  head  and 
smiled.  "  And  what  sort  of  a  chap  is  tins 
correspondent  of  yours?"  ho  asked;  "and 
what  may  his  name  be  ? " 

"  Oh,  he's  a  very  strange  creature  in- 
deed," said  Madge,  mysteriously ;  "  he's 
half  red  and  half  white,  and,  if  you  strike 
him  with  a  sword,  fire  comes  out  of  him." 

Had  Madge,  after  making  this  extraor- 
dinary speech,  happened  to  look  at  her  com- 
panion's face,  she  might  have  seen  a  singular 
expression  come  into  it  and  immediately  pass 
away  again.  In  a  few  moments  he  spoke  in 
his  usual  tone. 

"  Which  do  you  like  best,  my  dear  Mar- 


THE   OTHER   TWO. 


151 


garet  —  blind-man's-buff,  hide-and-seek,  or 
being  my  partner  in  the  Virginia  Eeel  ?  " 

"  I  like  being  your  partner,  I  think — you 
dance  so  Avell.  And  then  I  like  going  shares 
with  you  in  the  grapes." 

"  You're  a  witch,  and  of  course  you  can 
beat  me  at  dancing,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
short  laugh  ;  "but,  I  dare  say,  we  shall  suit 
better  after  having  had  a  little  more  practice 
together.  As  for  the  grapes,  I  see  you  have 
some  of  the  bunch  still  left.  I  suppose  that 
lucky  dog,  Garth,  will  get  those?  " 

"I  suppose  so,"  assented  Madge,  with  a 
sigh ;  "  though  I  don't  think  he  cares  for 
them  so  much  as  I  do.  He  never  will  take 
the  trouble  to  pick  them  for  himself;  but  if 
I  put  them  into  his  mouth,  he  might  prob- 
ably consent  to  eat  them." 

"  I  think  very  likely,"  responded  Go- 
lightley,  dryly.  "  I  offered  him  a  rousing 
good  bunch  the  other  day,  and  he  swallowed 
it  without  winking.  But,  by-the-by,  my 
dear,  aren't  we  getting  pretty  deep  in  the 
woods?" 

"Oh,  we  sha'n't  get  lost,"  she  answered, 
with  a  smile.  "Keep  to  the  left.  I  was 
brought  up  in  the  woods,  you  see,  and  can 
always  find  my  way." 

They  kept  to  the  left  accordingly,  and 
are  lost  to  our  sight  amid  the  falling  gold  of 
autumn. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE    OTHER   TWO. 

GAETH  and  Elinor,  meanwhile,  on  emerg- 
ing from  their  respective  brown  studies  and 
looking  about  them,  had  found  themselves 
virtually  alone  together.  Garth  raised  him- 
self on  one  elbow,  stared  at  Elinor  until  she 
was  forced  to  return  his  glance,  and  then 
threw  himself  to  his  feet  and  walked  tow- 
ard her  with  a  superfine  set  grin  on  his  face, 
the  cynical  grotesqueness  of  which  would 
have  made  her  laugh  had  she  not  been  both 
irritated  and  secretly  startled.  What  did  he 
want  with  her  ?  She  could  not  doubt  that 
she  must  be  as  disagreeable  to  him  as  he  to 
her ;  and  the  last  thing  she  would  have  an- 
ticipated was  a  malice-prepense  conversation 


between  them.  It  is  true  that  she  did  not 
despise  him  quite  so  much  as  before  Golight- 
ley's  explanation:  and  the  discovery  that 
she  had  wronged  him  on  one  score,  perhaps 
mitigated  her  sternness  on  another.  On  the 
other  hand,  she  might  have  reflected  that 
previous  to  his  artistic  self-degradation  the 
charge  against  him  of  indolent  dependence 
had  not  disturbed  her  in  the  least.  Probably 
all  she  did  think  of  at  this  moment  was  that 
his  approach  was  unwelcome,  and  that  she 
would  be  rid  of  him  as  soon  as  circumstances 
would  admit. 

"We  must  not  appear  singular,  Miss  Go- 
lightley,"  began  Garth,  bowing  with  punc- 
tilious politeness.  "  We  aren't  asleep,  so 
we  must  take  a  stroll.  I'll  help  you  down 
— jump !  " 

"I  don't  care  to  walk,  thank  you,"  said 
Elinor;  but  she  had  already  "jumped"  at 
his  bidding,  and  now,  in  spite  of  her  dis- 
claimer, kept  beside  him  as  he  sauntered 
toward  the  brook  on  the  right.  She  meant 
to  turn  back  after  a  few  steps ;  but  it  did 
not  appear  necessary,  or  even  very  easy,  di- 
rectly to  withstand  a  man  of  this  kind. 

"  Since  we're  in  different  walks  of  art," 
he  resumed,  "  I  may  safely  praise  your  pro- 
ficiency. Such  genius  certainly  should  be 
published.  There  was  an  undercurrent  in 
that  tune  you  played  which  might  have  sold 
at  a  high  price." 

"I  don't  look  forward  to  playing  in  pub- 
lic," replied  Elinor,  coloring  high  with  in- 
dignation at  what  seemed  to  her,  fresh  from 
her  dream,  a  most  ungenerous  and  injurious 
speech. 

"  No  ?  Well,  selfishness  is  pleasant  when 
you  can  afford  it.  But,  where's  your  van- 
ity? Think  of  enrapturing  thousands  of 
people!  Art,  you  know,  has  three  recom- 
mendations :  it  can  minister  to  your  private, 
selfish  enjoyment,  and  it  can  get  you  money, 
and  flattery.  But  I  should  soon  be  tired  of 
painting  pictures  merely  for  my  own  amuse- 
ment. I  need  admiration  and  good  pay  to 
keep  me  going." 

"  I  have  no  right  to  suppose  you  are  not 
in  earnest  in  what  you  say,  Mr.  Urmson ; 
but  I  must  say  it  seems  to  me  strange  that 
Art  should  reveal  so  much  of  her  beauty  to 
— one  holding  your  opinions.  And  it's  hard 


152 


GARTH. 


to  understand,  too,  how  any  one  who  can 
see  so  much  of  her  divinity  should  find  it 
possible  to  speak  of  her  as  a  drudge  and  a 
convenience." 

"  I  suppose  this  is  meant  for  praise  con- 
cealed under  a  thin  veil  of  reproof.  Between 
your  praise  and  my  uncle's  money,  I  ought 
to  be  very  happy.  Do  you  recollect  our  pro- 
found conversation  in  the  studio  a  few  days 
ago?  I've  been  afraid  you  misunderstood 
something  I  said  then.  I  fully  agreed  with 
your  criticism  on  the  picture,  but  of  course 
the  alteration  suggested  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. My  uncle  had  already  offered  a  large 
price  for  the  picture  as  it  stood.  Highly  as 
I  honor  art,  Miss  Golightley,  a  check  for  a 
thousand  pounds  is  worth  all  the  ideal  scru- 
ples in  the  world." 

"  You  are  really  very  frank.  But  how 
have  I  deserved  this  confidence  ?  " 

"  No  confidence  at  all ;  only  it's  pleasant 
to  feel  you  are  understood.  There's  a  sort 
of  inverted  analogy  between  your  case  and 
mine,  thanks  to  one  and  the  same  individual 
— that  is,  if  I  may  construe  your  remark 
about  not  playing  in  public  as  hinting  at 
your  betrothal  to  my  beloved  uncle.  I  con- 
gratulate you.  His  affection  for  you,  you 
see,  has  freed  you  from  the  necessity  of  do- 
ing that  to  which  his  affection  for  mo  com- 
pels me." 

"  There  could  never  possibly  be  any  like- 
ness or  sympathy  between  you  and  me,  Mr. 
Urmson.  Excuse  me,  I  must  turn  back 
now." 

"No  ;  you  can  do  more  good  here  than 
anywhere,"  returned  Garth,  his  sardonic  ex- 
pression darkening  into  something  less  un- 
natural but  more  lowering.  "  Come,  come, 
Miss  Golightley,  you'll  have  to  put  up  with 
me  sooner  or  later ;  and  there's  something 
I  wish  to  find  in  these  woods.  Besides,  you 
were  an  old  friend  of  mine  long  before  you 
knew  of  my  existence.  After  that  first  meet- 
ing in  the  Green  Vaults  I  followed  you — in- 
advertently, of  course — all  over  Europe.  At 
last,  to  break  the  spell,  I  took  your  portrait. 
That  answered  for  a  time  ;  but  here  we  are 
again,  you  see." 

"  It  is  easier  to  take  such  a  liberty  than 
to  resent  it,  sir ;  but — " 

Garth  laughed.     "  Liberty  ?    A  cat  may 


look  at  a  king ;  and,  to  be  honest,  I  put  your 
face  on  canvas  only  to  free  my  memory  of 
it.  A  liberty  !  Why  do  you  wear  a  face  ? 
If  there  be  a  liberty,  it  is  on  your  part." 

"  I  am  glad  you  can  speak  to  a  lady  in 
this  way,"  said  Elinor,  with  her  iciest 
haughtiness ;  "  I  may  have  been  mistaken  in 
thinking  well  of  your  pictures;  but  after 
this  I  can  never  be  mistaken  in  you." 

"  Say  more  like  that !  "  exclaimed  Garth, 
grinning  with  a  kind  of  savage  delight.  "  I 
like  to  hear  you  say  what  I  am.  Consistent, 
am  I  not  ?  a  charlatan  in  art  and  a  charla- 
tan in  character !  I  told  you  you  could  do 
more  good  here  than  anywhere." 

"I  must  consider  myself  as  well  as  you, 
Mr.  Urmson,"  said  she,  stopping  short  in  her 
walk,  and  turning  her  face  aside. 

"Yes;  but  don't  go  back— don't!"  he 
repeated,  in  a  tone  of  such  strange  entreaty 
as  made  Elinor's  heart  beat  quicker,  in  spite 
of  her  best  resolution.  Half  involuntarily 
she  moved  on.  "  Think  what  a  dramatic 
situation !  "  he  went  on  with  a  hurried  im- 
petuosity of  utterance.  "  You  detest  me  for 
what  I  am,  and  I  hate  you  for  what  I'm  not, 
and  we  are  saying  what  we  think  !  Appre- 
ciate your  privileges,  Miss  Golightley ;  you 
might  search  the  world  for  charlatans,  and 
not  find  another  like  me." 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  Elinor,  speaking  low 
lest  her  voice  should  tremble. 

"Do  you  know  why?"  he  continued, 
not  heeding  her.  "  Because  I  was  meant 
for  a  gentleman.  I'm  no  common  man. 
My  mother  was  a  most  pure  and  sweet  wom- 
an ;  and  there's  no  nobler,  gentler,  braver 
man  than  my  father.  You  understand  that  ?  " 
he  demanded,  suddenly,  frowning  at  her 
with  glowing  eyes. 

Elinor  drew  her  breath  and  said,  "I  am 
willing  to  believe  it." 

"  Yes.  Well,  they're  in  me,  both  of 
them,"  he  said,  motioning  toward  himself 
with  his  chin.  "  And,  against  that,  I've 
made  myself  what  I  am.  You  mustn't  for- 
get, either,  that  I'm  an  only  son,  and  the 
last  of  the  Urmsons;  and  that  all  the  honor 
of  the  race,  and  all  the  life-long  hopes  and 
prayers  of  my  father — he  has  devoted  his 
whole  life  to  me — end  in  me." 

It  seemed  to  Elinor  that  the  last  three 


THE   OTHER  TWO. 


153 


words  were  as  if  he  had  struck  so  many 
blows  on  her  heart.  She  drooped  inwardly, 
and  kept  her  body  erect  only  by  a  conscious 
physical  effort.  She  no  longer  thought  of 
turning  back,  however,  though  to  go  for- 
ward was  now  even  more  painful  than  irk- 
some. 

"  Hear  more,  since  you're  so  condescend- 
ing," resumed  her  companion,  after  a  short 
silence.  "You  must  excuse  my  egotism, 
but  I  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  myself.  To 
realize  my  merit,  you  should  have  heard 
what  my  father  said  to  me  when  he  sent  me 
to  college,  and  once  before,  when  I  was  a 
boy;  and  you  should  have  known  the  fine 
resolutions  I  made  after  my  mother's  death. 
I  tell  you  I'm  no  common  man.  Then  you 
should  know  in  what  a  religious,  reverential 
way  I  have  talked  and  thought  about  art. 
You  needn't  trouble  yourself  to  disparage 
the  good  in  my  pictures.  There  is  good  in 
them,  and  power  in  me,  but  that  I  choose 
to  be  a  charlatan,  to  paint  pictures  as  great 
as  any  in  the  world.  Excuse  my  laughing; 
but  when  I  remember  the  doubts  and  anxi- 
eties I  used  to  suffer  as  to  my  genius —  But 
I  recognize  my  genius  now,  and  I've  no 
doubt  I  can  make  myself  rich  by  it.  It 
was  only  while  I  thought  of  consecrating 
it  to  lofty  ideal  ends  that  I  had  any  mis- 
givings about  it.  Such  a  blessed  peace 
and  security  as  I  enjoy  now,  Miss  Golight- 
ley!" 

"Oh,  what  are  you  throwing  away!" 
muttered  Elinor.  "  It  weighs  me  down." 

"  Not  that  tone,  after  my  pains  to  be  ex- 
plicit !  With  all  my  complaisance — no  sen- 
timental sympathy,  if  you  please.  Show  me 
how  bitter  you  can  be." 

"  You  could  not  be  so  bitter  if  you  were 
what  you  would  have  me  believe.  Think  of 
the  girl  who  is  to  be  your  wife,  Mr.  Urm- 
son." 

"  I  care  only  to  talk  of  myself,  Miss  Go- 
lightley.  I  haven't  talked  so  much  in  ten 
years  as  I  have  talked  to  you.  I'm  dumb 
enough  to  people  who  love  me,  but  detesta- 
tion loosens  my  tongue.  You  bring  the 
worst  in  me  to  the  surface,  and  so  put  me  at 
my  ease;  but  my  admirers  misunderstand 
me,  and  torture  me  by  probing  after  imagi- 
nary good.  Our  relation  can  be  of  great 


mutual  benefit.  Love  is  sugar,  but  hate  is 
salt.  Haven't  I  made  out  my  case  yet? 
Think  again  of  a  man  knowing  the  good 
that  I  know,  and  having  such  reasons  to  be 
honorable  as  I  have,  who  nevertheless  gives 
it  all  up  for  a  paltry  thousand  pounds.  I 
admire  your  gravity.  In  your  place,  I  should 
laugh  till  I  cried." 

"  Mr.  Urmson,"  began  Elinor,  hurriedly, 
"  I  am  alone  in  the  world,  with  no  father  or 
mother,  or  brothers  or  sisters.  Seems  to  mo 
it  would  be  safer  to  die  than  to  believe  what 
you  ask  me  to.  Your  uncle  wishes  to  marry 
me,  and  I  think  him  a  good  and  noble  man ; 
but  he  could  not  help  the  harm  this  would 
do  me.  But,  if  you  are  so  base,  how  can 
you  wish  to  marry  a  girl  without  money, 
like  Margaret?  There  is  a  contradiction 
somewhere  —  an  impossibility.  I  used  to 
think  my  life  had  been  sad  in  some  ways, 
but  how  am  I  to  endure  this?  " 

"  Take  care !  there's  danger  of  my  hating 
you  in  a  different  way — a  worse  way." 

"  Nothing  is  worse  than  this,"  she  said, 
with  a  slight  shudder. 

"  Come,  let  us  be  wise,  and  make  the 
best  of  our  position,"  said  Garth,  smiling. 
"  I  like  recognition  for  my  sins  even  better 
than  for  my  virtues ;  and  you  happen  to  be 
the  only  person  qualified  to  give  me  full 
measure.  I've  taken  special  pains  to  bring 
my  moral  state  clearly  before  you,  and  you 
have  naturally  less  charity  and  tenderness 
than  any  woman  I  know  of.  Let  me  feel 
secure  of  your  constant  and  thorough  de- 
testation— if  you  would  be  so  kind.  Put  all 
your  available  contempt  and  venom  into 
every  word  you  say  to  me,  and  then  I  shall 
have  a  real  pleasure  in  meeting  you.  In  the 
natural  course  of  things,  we  must  often 
meet ;  but,  I  tell  you  fairly,  if  you  try  any 
other  method  with  me,  you'll  be  sorry  for 
it.  I  won't  put  up  with  any  gentleness  or 
relenting  from  you,  Miss  Golightley.  If  you 
falter,  you  may  stir  up  seven  devils  in  the 
place  of  one." 

The  latter  sentences  came  in  a  growl, 
with  latent  fierceness  underlying  it ;  but 
anything  like  a  threat  kindled  Elinor's  cour- 
age. 

"  You  ask  me  to  become  a  devil  myself!  " 
she  exclaimed,  vibrating  with  excitement 


GARTH. 


"  "What  have  I  done  that  gives  you  the  right 
to  speak  to  me  so  ?  " 

"  You  -would  not  like  to  hear.  You  have 
played  on  your  violin  there,  for  one  thing, 
and  I've  heard  your  voice  in  singing.  "Why 
did  you  stay  to  talk  with  me  in  the  studio  ? 
"What  have  you  done  with  the  violet  I  gave 
you  down  by  the  lake?  it  was  not  meant 
for  you.  Oh!"  cried  Garth,  with  an  im- 
petuous gesture  of  his  arms,  "don't  refuse 
my  request  on  any  plea  of  conscience !  Keep 
your  conscience  for  something  else.  For  I 
solemnly  assure  you,  whatever  might  ap- 
pear, you  would  be  doing  an  angel's  work, 
not  a  devil's." 

Elinor  made  no  reply.  All  this  time  they 
were  pressing  onward  through  the  woven 
forest,  hurriedly,  as  though  driven  by  some 
swift  necessity ;  he  mechanically  putting 
aside  the  branches  for  her  to  pass,  and  aid- 
ing her  to  protect  her  violin  from  a  chance 
blow  or  scratch.  After  this  silence  between 
them  had  continued  for  a  few  moments,  he 
looked  at  her,  and  saw  tears  running  down 
her  face.  She  herself  hardly  seemed  con- 
scious of  them,  so  intense  was  her  painful 
preoccupation. 

He  continued  to  fix  his  eyes  upon  her, 
until  she  felt  them,  and  their  glances  met. 
Almost  immediately  he  spoke,  in  a  quiet,  in- 
different tone: 

"  "We  must  not  get  lost,  Miss  Golightley. 
Keep  to  the  right.  I  think  the  lane  is  not 
far  off.  There  are  some  strange  things  in 
these  woods ;  but  I  have  not  found  what  I 
came  out  for,  and  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
bringing  you.  Selfish  people  like  myself 
are  always  getting  into  such  scrapes.  I  beg 
your  pardon  for  leading  you  so  far  out  of 
your  way." 

"I'm  not  used  to  the  woods,"  returned 
Elinor,  who  had  hastily  wiped  her  eyes. 
"  I  like  some  sort  of  path ;  this  seems  a  wil- 
derness." 

"It  is  a  wilderness;  even  the  paths  don't 
go  far ;  the  longest  only  leads  from  one  wil- 
derness to  another.  However,  the  lane  is 
not  far  off.  Hark !  " 

They  stopped  and  listened,  each  with  a 
sensation  oddly  compounded  of  chagrin  and 
relief.  In  a  moment  it  came  again  —  the 
sound  of  voices,  a  man's  and  a  woman's, 


easily  recognizable,  though  the  speakers  were 
still  too  distant  to  be  descried  between  the 
trees. 

"  This  is  the  end,"  muttered  Garth,  with 
the  mingled  smile  and  frown  that  sometimes 
appeared  on  his  visage.  "  "We're  in  the  world 
again,  Miss  Golightley.  Doesn't  it  seem  to 
yon,  now  that  civilization  is  within  hail,  that 
we've  been  making  a  great  ado  about  noth- 
ing? My  dear  uncle,  I  guess,  would  poke 
fun  at  us  without  mercy.  After  all,  how 
can  we  do  better  than  to  adopt  the  world's 
views?  Kindly  oblige  me  by  looking  upon 
me  as  an  upright,  sensible  young  gentleman, 
with  too  just  a  perception  of  what  is  due  to 
himself  and  to  those  connected  with  him  to 
throw  away  fortune  for  what  really  is,  when 
you  come  to  examine  it  rationally,  the  most 
purely  fanciful  crotchet  imaginable.  Recol- 
lect, too,  that  even  if  circumstances  force  me 
to  go  a  little  beyond  my  conscience  in  one 
instance,  I  can,  and  no  doubt  will,  pay  back 
debt  and  interest  on  the  very  next  oppor- 
tunity. You  wouldn't  give  a  man  up  for 
one  trumpery  little  genial,  venial  fault  ?  I 
beg  to  take  back  all  my  morbid  and  ill-tem- 
pered self-abuse.  Tin  a  very  nice  sort  of 
person." 

"  I'm  not  sorry  we  took  this  walk,  Mr. 
Urmson,"  said  Elinor,  glancing  at  him  with 
a  timid  humility  in  the  expression  of  her 
eyes  and  mouth,  which  lent  them  a  new 
charm.  "  We  seem  to  have  come  to  noth- 
ing ;  but  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  feel  so — 
so  much  in  the  right  again.  How  should  I 
judge  ?  how  can  you,  even  ? " 

"  Oh,  let  it  go !  "  growled  Garth,  with  a 
gritting  of  his  teeth.  "  "What  are  judgments 
to  me?  I've  insulted  you  with  a  lot  of 
weak  rubbish,  and  you  fitly  punish  me  by 
taking  it  kindly.  But  I'm  in  such  a  per- 
verted fix,  Miss  Elinor,  that  the  kindest 
kindness  helps  me  less  than  none  at  all.  I'll 
hail  those  two  people." 

"  Please  wait  a  moment !  "  said  she, 
hurriedly,  coming  in  front  of  him  as  he  was 
on  the  point  of  raising  a  halloo.  "Just  let 
me  say  that  I  know  you  will  do  right,  what- 
ever happens."  As  she  spoke,  flushing  and 
paling  almost  at  the  same  instant,  she  held 
out  her  hand  as  a  pledge  of  her  sincerity. 
As  Garth  faced  her,  she  fancied  that, 


THE  VEIL  AND  THE  LETTER. 


155 


from  his  short,  massive  figure,  his  shaggy 
head  and  dark  brows,  his  glowing  eyes  and 
grim  mouth,  suddenly  came  forth  an  in- 
nuence  of  tenderness  and  manly  sweetness 
so  powerful  that  it  affected  her  almost  as  a 
physical  touch.  He  also  made  a  motion  to 
take  her  hand  in  his  own  ;  hut,  ere  he  had 
done  so,  the  gentle  impression  vanished  as 
abruptly  as  it  had  come  ;  he  thrust  his  hand 
doggedly  into  his  coat-pocket,  and  turned 
aside. 

"  Be  offended  or  not,  as  you  choose,"  he 
said,  gruffly  ;  "I  can't  touch  your  hand,  nor 
justify  your  expectation ;  it's  as  foolish  as 
it  is  well  meant!  "  With  this,  and  without 
again  looking  at  Elinor,  he  hollowed  one 
hand  beside  his  mouth  and  gave  a  whoop, 
which  instantly  put  an  end  to  all  confiden- 
tial disclosures  on  the  part  either  of  himself 
and  Elinor,  or  Uncle  Golightley  and  Madge. 
In  another  minute  all  the  four  friends  and 
lovers  were  standing  together  in  the  lane. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE   VEIL   AND   THE   LETTER. 

"  IT'S  fortunate  that  our  respective  moral 
and  social  reputations  are  without  spot  or 
blemish,"  remarked  Uncle  Golightley,  with 
a  humorous  glance  and  smile ;  "  otherwise 
this  might  be  an  awkward  meeting  for  all  of 
us— eh,  Garth  ?  Ha !  ha  I  " 

They  walked  onward  in  a  group  at  first, 
as  if  shy  of  pairing  off  again ;  but  soon  a 
sort  of  neutral  division  was  effected,  Garth 
and  his  uncle  going  in  advance,  while  Elinor 
and  Madge  followed  on  behind.  Golightley 
alone,  however,  seemed  to  be  in  the  vein  to 
talk.  He  was  in  a  most  affable  humor,  and 
did  his  best  to  make  the  others  as  pleasant 
as  himself. 

"  I  say,  old  fellow,"  he  cried,  banteringly 
addressing  his  nephew,  but  talking -over  his 
shoulder  for  the  benefit  of  the  ladies,  "  I'm 
afraid  you're  a  gallant,  gay  Lothario ! — You 
must  look  after  him,  Miss  Margaret.  If  I 
were  in  your  place,  I  wouldn't  be  letting  my 
young  man  receive  mysterious  epistles  in 
the  morning,  aud  go  off  on  secret  expedi- 


tions with  young  ladies  in  the  afternoon, 
without  instituting  a  pretty  strict  inquiry. 
Eh?" 

"Why,  then,  I  think  you  must  be  his 
confederate,  Uncle  Golightley,"  retorted 
Madge,  cleverly ;  "  for  it  was  you  who 
carried  me  off,  and  left  him  free  to  do  what 
he  liked. — But  I  sha'n't  be  anxious  about 
him  so  long  as  he  chooses  you  for  a  com- 
panion," she  added,  with  affectionate  di- 
plomacy, to  Elinor. 

After  proceeding  a  little  farther,  the 
party  came  to  a  fork  of  the  path,  marked  by 
a  clear  woodland  spring,  which  bubbled  up 
at  the  base,  of  a  large  rock-maple,  and  so 
slipped  sparkling  and  tinkling  away  into  the 
heart  of  the  golden  forest.  The  source  was 
set  in  a  margin  of  large  rounded  stones  and 
pebbles ;  but  the  bottom  of  the  little  basin 
was  strewed  with  soft,  white  sand,  which  the 
ebullition  of  the  crystal  water  caused  to  curl 
and  gyrate  hi  curious  palpitations.  The 
maple  had  already  lost  most  of  its  foliage, 
the  earth  round  about  was  strewed  with  it, 
and  two  or  three  leaves  swam  like  great 
drops  of  blood  on  the  surface  of  the  spring. 

"  By  George  !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Golight- 
ley, as  he  caught  sight  of  this  refreshing 
spectacle,  "  I  didn't  know  till  now  how 
devilish  tired  and  thirsty  I  am  !  Let's  play 
we're  four  little  children,  and  all  lie  down 
on  our  stomachs  and  have  a  good  drink. 
Come ! " 

They  sat  down  on  the  smooth  stones, 
and  every  one  of  them  owned  to  being  more 
weary  than  they  had  supposed.  Elinor  took 
off  her  hat  to  arrange  the  veil  which  had 
got  torn  from  its  fastenings  during  her  pas- 
sage through  the  wood.  While  hunting  for 
a  pin,  she  laid  the  veil  on  a  stone  by  her 
side  ;  and,  being  a  light,  gossamer  thing,  the 
southwesterly  breeze  caught  it,  and  wafted 
it  upward.  Garth  saw  it  go,  and  sprang  for 
it,  but  was  too  late.  It  floated  and  swung 
through  the  air,  now  sinking,  now  rising, 
and,  at  length,  just  as  it  seemed  on  the 
point  of  starting  on  a  long  flight  northward, 
it  was  caught  and  held  by  a  forked  twig  on 
the  tip-top  of  the  very  maple  at  whose  base 
the  party  were  seated. 

"  Xow's  our  chance  to  prove  who's  the 
best  climber,  Garth,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Go- 


156 


GAETH. 


liglitley,  intrepidly  rising  to  his  feet  and  ad- 
vancing upon  the  tree. 

Garth  laughed,  threw  off  his  coat,  and 
measured  the  maple  with  his  eye.  "  Give 
me  the  first  chance,"  said  he;  "if  I  fail, 
your  success  will  be  the  brighter." 

"  Please,  don't  either  of  you  go  up," 
said  Elinor.  "  No  one  needs  a  veil  in  the 
Indian  summer ;  it  is  more  trouble  than 
use." 

"  Oh,  yes,  do  let  him  go ! "  Madge  ex- 
claimed, clapping  her  hands ;  "  I  want  you 
to  see  how  beautifully  he.  climbs." 

Uncle  Golightley  retired,  laughing,  while 
Garth  clasped  the  trunk  with  his  arms  and 
knees,  and  prepared  to  swarm  upward.  In 
so  doing  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
a  rude  inscription,  or  perhaps  it  was  a  nat- 
ural irregularity  in  the  surface  of  the  bark ; 
at  all  events,  it  bore  a  distorted  resemblance 
to  four  letters,  M.  D.,  G.  U.,  the  last  two  in- 
scribed below  the  first  two,  and  all  four  sur- 
rounded by  a  circular  incision.  In  a  moment 
he  both  recognized  the  inscription  and  the 
occasion  on  which  it  had  been  made.  It 
was  on  that  day,  ten  or  a  dozen  years  ago — 
the  day  of  his  first  picnic,  when  he  had 
paused  here  to  drink  and  to  muse  over  his 
untold  love,  and  to  dream  of  a  temple  built 
on  this  spot  to  Love  and  Peace.  Yet  here, 
a  few  hours  later  on  that  same  day,  he  had 
half  murdered  Sam  Kineo,  and  hence  had 
fled  with  the  terror  of  blood-guiltiness  upon 
him.  It  was  a  spot,  therefore,  where  the 
evil  omens  overpowered  the  good.  Even 
these  letters,  straight  and  shapely  as  they 
had  once  been,  had  now  grown  into  dis- 
torted ugliness  and  malproportion. 

"Dear  me,  Garth,  are  you  never  going 
to  move  ?  "  exclaimed  Madge,  impatient  for 
the  exhibition  to  begin. 

"  All  right,"  he  responded,  and  forthwith 
began  the  ascent  in  earnest. 

"  Oh,  you  careless  boy !  "  cried  the  young 
lady  the  next  moment — "  look  if  he  hasn't 
thrown  his  coat  right  into  the  water !  " 

The  careless  boy  was  by  this  time  too 
far  on  his  way  to  remedy  the  mishap,  nor 
was  it  necessary  he  should  do  so,  for  Madge 
herself  had  snatched  up  the  garment,  and, 
after  giving  it  a  good  shake,  threw  it  cloak- 
like  over  her  own  pretty  shoulders.  The 


whole  action  was  very  graceful  and  femi- 
nine. In  many  girls,  lacking  the  requisite 
ingenuous  artlessness,  it  might  have  seemed 
in  slightly  doubtful  taste  to  put  on  a  lover's 
coat ;  but  there  was  such  an  unaffected, 
childlike  spontaneity  about  Madge  as  trans- 
formed the  slight  impropriety  into  a  refined 
and  charming,  because  innocent  and  impul- 
sive, act  of  affection. 

All  eyes  were  now  fixed  upon  the  climber, 
who  made  his  way  uninterruptedly  to  the 
lower  branches,  from  which  point  his  prog- 
ress was  too  easy  a  matter  to  excite  much 
interest.  As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  how- 
ever, at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  bal- 
ancing among  the  topmost  boughs  and  reach- 
ing upward  for  the  veil,  an  eddy  of  the 
breeze  lifted  it  lightly  from  the  forked  twig 
and  bore  it  once  more  aloft,  amid  a  general 
wail  from  the  on-lookers.  This  time  it  did 
not  linger  aimlessly  about,  but  set  off  at  a 
steady,  business-like  rate,  and  in  less  than  a 
minute  was  hopelessly  out  of  sight.  Garth 
j  retraced  his  steps,  and,  swinging  from  the 
\  lower  branch,  dropped  to  the  ground. 

"  Your  efforts  were  well  meant,  but  of 
no  avail,"  said  incorrigible  Uncle  Golight- 
ley. 

"  If  you  hadn't  waited  so  long,  just  at 
the  beginning,"  observed  Madge,  "you'd 
have  caught  it  before  the  wind  did.  You're 
not  so  light  as  a  zephyr,  poor  boy,"  she 
added,  with  a  half-mischievous,  wholly- 
admiring  glance  at  his  sturdy  shoulders. 
"  Come,  let  me  help  you  on  with  your  coat. 
It  didn't  get  very  wet,  after  all — only  the 
sleeve  a  little." 

The  party  now  resumed  their  walk,  and 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  arrived  at  the 
picnic-ground.  They  must  have  been  absent 
much  longer  than  they  had  supposed,  for  the 
picnic,  so  far  as  the  meat  and  drink  part  of 
it  was  concerned,  was  over.  Nor  were  they 
destined  even  to  partake  of  the  broken  rem- 
nants, for  poor  Mrs.  Tenterden,  shortly  before 
their  arrival,  had  been  seized  with  a  bilious 
attack,  consequent,  in  part,  upon  her  exer- 
tions in  the  dance,  and  partly  from  having 
eaten  a  little  too  much  omelette  aux  fines 
Tierbes,  exquisitely  prepared  by  Mrs.  Danver, 
and  was  now  reclining  in  the  shadow  of 
Hiawatha's  throne,  surrounded  by  a  sympa- 


THE  VEIL  AND  THE  LETTER. 


157 


thetic  throng,  -while  the  gigantic  parson  ten- 
derly supported  her  head,  and  fanned  her 
\vith  his  hat.  Meantime  her  groans  and 
sighs  were  distressingly  audible,  and  several 
of  the  less  experienced  of  the  spectators  had 
already  made  up  their  minds  that  she  was 
about  to  breathe  her  last. 

"  O  Elinor,  child,  where  have  you  been  ? " 
gasped  the  good  lady,  as  the  girl  hastened 
up.  "  I  thought  you  were  lost.  Ah  !  I  de- 
clare I  believe  I  am  going  to  die.  I  declare 
I  think  you  mightn't  have  left  me  all  alone 
here.  Oh,  dear !  I  never  was  so  sick  in  my 
life.  You  must  get  me  back  home  somehow. 
I  won't  die  out  here  in  the  woods,  you  mark 
my  words." 

"  Can  we  have  one  of  the  wagons  to  go 
back  in  ? "  asked  Elinor  of  Garth.  "  There's 
no  danger,  but  she  is  so  seldom  ill  that  any- 
thing makes  her  think  she  will  die." 

The  wagon  was  soon,  ready,  and  Mrs. 
Tenterden  was  lifted  into  it,  and  made  as 
comfortable  as  possible  on  a  couch  of  shawls 
and  wraps.  Elinor,  Madge,  and  Golightley, 
got  aboard  with  her,  while  Garth  drove  as 
before,  the  minister  and  Mrs.  Danver  re- 
maining behind  to  see  that  the  rest  of  the 
picnickers  got  into  no  mischief.  It  was  now 
late  in  the  afternoon  ;  the  dry,  golden  haze 
which  had  more  or  less  pervaded  the  land- 
scape all  day  began  imperceptibly  to  in- 
crease, and  the  sun  sank  earthward  slowly, 
like  a  great  red  Chinese  lantern.  There 
was  little  or  no  conversation  among  the 
party,  all  efforts  in  that  direction  being  re- 
sented by  Mrs.  Tenterden  as  a  disregard 
of  the  solemn  fact  of  her  approaching  dis- 
solution, and  she  accordingly  bemoaned  her- 
self with  very  slight  interruption  during  the 
whole  journey. 

At  last,  after  driving  for  what  the  invalid 
declared  to  be  hundreds  of  miles,  the  Dan- 
vers'  cottage  was  reached,  and  she  was 
safely  disembarked.  Garth  and  Golightley 
gave  her  each  an  arm  into  the  house,  and 
afterward  lingered  a  while  on  the  steps  with 
Madge,  Golightley  delivering  himself  of  his 
parting  pleasantries,  while  Garth  stood  by 
silent,  with  his  hands  in  his  coat-pockets, 
and  a  rather  unamiable  smile  on  his  face. 
But  all  at  once  his  expression  changed ;  he 
felt  in  all  his  pockets,  one  after  another, 


and  finally  demanded,  in  a  disturbed  tone, 
whether  either  Golightley  or  Madge  had 
seen  him  drop  a  letter. 

"  How  now  ?  the  billet-doux  lost  ?  "  cried 
his  uncle.  "  Ah,  my  dear  boy,  see  the  im- 
prudence of  .carrying  such  treasures  to  pic- 
nics and  forest-walks !  —  By  George !  it 
serves  him  right,  Miss  Margaret ;  and  I 
shouldn't  blame  you  if  you'd  picked  his 
pocket  of  it." 

"It  was  a  letter  of  importance,"  said 
Garth,  impatiently,  still  searching  his  pock- 
ets.— "  Have  you  seen  it,  Madge  ? " 

"  I  was  trying  to  think,"  said  she,  with 
her  finger  on  her  lip,  and  her  eyes  fixed  ap- 
prehensively on  his  face.  "  O  my  dear 
Garth,  don't  he  angry !  I'm  afraid  I  do 
know  where  it  might  possibly  be;  at 
least—" 

u  You  have  seen  it  ?   .  Where?  " 

"Dear  me!  you  know,  when  you  threw 
down  your  coat,  I  picked  it  up  and  shook  it 
to  get  the  water  off;  and  I'm  afraid,  dear, 
it  must  have  got  shaken  out  of  the  pocket. 
"Which  pocket  was  it  in  ?  " 

"In  this  side-pocket.  That  was  up  by 
the  spring,  I  shall  find  it  there. — I'll  go 
back  at  once,  if  you'll  take  the  horses  round, 
uncle." 

"  I'm  sure  I  hope  you  will  find  it,  dear  ; 
but  I'm  afraid — O  Garth,  had  it  an  en- 
velope ? " 

"  Yes — no ;  I  left  the  envelope  at  home." 

"  "Well,  I  believe  I  saw  something  I 
thought  must  be  a  leaf,  but  I  guess  now  it 
must  have  been  the  letter,  floating  off  down 
the  little  rivulet  from  the  spring.  I  was  so 
excited  in  your  climbing  the  tree  that  I  only 
just  glanced  at  it,  and  then  forgot  all  about 
it.  You  don't  think  that  could  have  been 
it,  dear,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  it  was ;  and  it  may  be  in  the 
brook,  or  even  in  the  lake,  by  this  time. 
"Well,  I  must  look  for  it.  Luckily  there's  a 
moon. — Tell  father  not  to  sit  up  for  me, 
Uncle  Golightley.  Good-by." 

He  walked  away,  but  in  a  few  moments 
heard  a  swift,  rustling  step  behind  him,  and 
there  was  Madge,  rosy  and  panting. 

"  Say  you'll  forgive  me,  dear  Garth — 
and  kiss  me,  won't  you?  I'm  so  sorry! 
Good-by,  dear.  I  do  hope  you'll  find  it." 


158 


GARTH. 


He  kissed  her,  and  left  her  standing  in 
the  twilight  road — rosy,  sparkling,  and  love- 
ly. "  There  never  was  such  a  woman !  "  he 
said  to  himself;  "and  am  not  I  the  luckiest 
and  happiest  of  men  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

COLD   COMFORT. 

As  Garth  walked  on  toward  the  forest, 
his  steps  quickened,  and  his  down-turned 
face  worked  silently.  The  moon  hung  low- 
over  the  valley — pallid,  still,  but  promising 
sumptuous  brilliancy  anon.  The  wind  \vas 
veering  to  the  north ;  it  came  cold  across 
the  young  man's  cheek,  with  a  prophecy  of 
the  Indian  summer's  departure  and  winter's 
onset.  Already  the  slumberous  gaze  was 
melting  out  of  the  air,  and  the  rims  of  the 
ghostly  moon  showed  sharp  and  clear.  The 
twilight  woods  were  full  of  solemn  grand- 
eur, more  impressive  than  the  sunlight  and 
glow  of  noonday.  But  Garth  was  not  at- 
tuned either  to  beauty  or  to  grandeur.  The 
day  had  gone  ill  with  him ;  he  seemed  to 
tilt  against  the  might  of  Fate — he  could  not 
prosper,  and  his  best  efforts  helped  against 
himself. 

He  had  gone  forth  that  morning  with 
the  intention  of  doing  Elinor  what  he  pre- 
sumed would  be  a  service.  The  idea  of  her 
being  united  to  Golightley  had  always  been 
distateful  to  him — not  that  he  admitted  car- 
ing for  her  himself;  but,  with  the  fastidious- 
ness of  an  artist,  he  was  averse  from,  seeing 
her  fine,  pure  tone  impaired  by  association 
with  a  perhaps  good-hearted  and  enlightened, 
but  not  profound  nor  truly  delicate  person, 
like  his  uncle.  He  did  not  believe  that  Eli- 
nor really  loved  this  man ;  more  probably 
she  would  accept  him  mainly  out  of  consid- 
eration for  the  well-being  of  Mrs.  Tenterden. 
But  this  would  involve  a  sacrifice  of  art  to 
convenience,  as  deplorable  in  its  way  as 
Garth's  own  mercenary  transaction  regard- 
ing his  picture.  There  was  need  of  a  dcus 
ex  machina  to  set  matters  right. 

Now,  precisely  such  a  divine  deliverance 
was  provided  in  the  news  which  Garth  had 
found  in  his  letter  that  morning.  It  would 


enable  Elinor  to  act  without  reference  to 
anything  less  than  her  own  highest  impulses. 
The  news  must,  indeed,  be  kept  secret  for  a 
time  from  every  one  except  Cuthbert ;  but 
Garth  had  seen  his  way  to  dropping  such 
hints  to  Elinor  as  would  put  her  on  her 
guard  against  prematurely  entangling  her- 
self. A  word  or  two,  when  opportunity 
offered,  would  doubtless  suffice,  and  the  pic- 
nic could  scarcely  fail  to  afford  such  an  op- 
portunity. 

But,  alas !  the  opportunity  had  come  too 
late.  AVhen  the  outpouring  of  Elinor's  voice 
in  that  musical  scream  of  hers  fell  upon 
Garth's  ears  he  felt  a  premonition  that  the 
mischief  had  been  done,  and  this  premoni- 
tion she  had  subsequently  confirmed.  It  only 
remained  for  him,  therefore,  to  keep  his  news 
to  himself,  and  inwardly  to  denounce  the 
folly  and  precipitation  of  womankind.  Not, 
he  was  careful  to  repeat,  that  he  felt  the 
least  direct  personal  concern  in  the  matter ; 
but  it  was  disagreeable,  on  general  grounds,  to 
see  a  refined  young  lady  throw  herself  away. 

This  disappointment  had  aided  to  becloud 
the  day  for  him,  and  now  the  loss  of  his 
letter  bade  fair  to  give  him  an  uneasy  night. 
It  was  of  great  importance  that  the  letter 
should  be  found — for,  although  Garth  was 
familiar  enough  with  its  contents,  their  pub- 
lication might  bring  about  much  trouble.  In 
spite  of  what  Madge  had  said  about  its  fall- 
ing into  the  water,  he  still  hoped  it  might 
be  lying  on  the  margin  of  the  little  spring. 
He  resolved,  however,  to  begin  his  search  at 
the  upper  mill-dam,  and  so  work  upward  to 
the  junction  of  the  mill-stream  and  the  rivu- 
let, and  thence  along  the  rivulet  to  its  source 
beneath  the  maple-tree.  A  less  imaginative 
man  would  have  gone  to  the  most  probable 
spot  first ;  but  Garth  loved  hope  better  al- 
most than  its  gratification,  and  chose  to 
move  in  the  direction  of  the  best  chances 
rather  than  away  from  them. 

Three  or  four  hours  later  he  arrived  at 
the  spring,  and  after  casting  a  keen  and 
anxious  glance  about,  he  flung  himself  down 
with  a  groan  on  the  grass  beside  the  margin, 
lie  was  weary  and  haggard;  he  was  wet 
from  wading  in  the  stream,  and  his  hands 
and  face  were  scratched  by  the  brambles. 
His  search  had  been  unsuccessful,  and  it  was 


A  FORGATHERING  OF  FOREFATHERS. 


159 


useless  to  think  of  pursuing  it  further.  The 
letter  was  lost,  and  Garth  could  only  hope 
that  it  was  as  much  lost  to  everybody  else 
as  it  was  to  him.  He  had  done  what  he 
could. 

He  lay  on  his  back,  gazing  upward  at 
the  purple  sky.  The  moon,  now  riding  high 
and  clear,  shone  with  great  brilliance.  On 
every  side  uprose  the  penciled  shadow  of  the 
trees,  and  at  every  breath  of  the  northerly 
breeze  their  dark  leaves  forsook  the  boughs 
whereon  the  pleasant  summer  had  been  spent, 
and  swam  zigzagging  earthward  through  the 
air.  Without  sound  they  fell,  continually, 
like  dusky  tears,  into  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 
The  great  forest  was  steeped  in  overwhelm- 
ing silence ;  the  liquid  bubbling  of  the  spring, 
which  in  the  daytime  was  almost  inaudible, 
now  resounded  clearly  through  the  stillness. 
How  ghastly  white  the  lifeless  moonlight 
lay! 

It  lent  a  death-like  pallor  to  Garth's  face 
as  he  reclined  motionless  and  with  shut  eyes 
on  the  turf,  his  arms  thrown  out  each  side, 
and  one  knee  drawn  up.  Slight  shiverings 
passed  through  him  from  time  to  time,  but 
he  was  scarcely  conscious  of  cold  or  even  of 
hunger.  He  only  felt  overpowered  by  invin- 
cible drowsiness. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

A   FORGATIIERIXG   OF   FOREFATHERS. 

AT  length  he  fell  asleep,  and  had  a  singu- 
lar dream.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was 
possessed  by  the  spirit  of  each  one  of  his 
ancestors  in  succession,  beginning  with  the 
first  emigrant.  Taken  separately,  they  were 
more  or  less  one-sided  versions  of  one  cen- 
tral principle ;  bat,  as  a  whole,  they  formed 
a  nearly  symmetrical  individual — an  indi- 
vidual more  nearly  akin  to  Garth  himself 
than  was  any  one  of  the  component  types, 
kindred  though  these  were.  Or,  in  other 
words,  Garth  was  realizing  the  various 
phases  of  one  life  in  its  progress  through 
half  a  dozen  generations ;  and  often,  so  in- 
timate was  his  sympathy  with  the  ghosts  of 
the  past,  he  seemed  almost  to  be  but  re- 
membering old  experiences  of  his  own.  Yet, 


through  all,  that  mysterious  something, 
which  we  call  personal  identity,  asserted 
itself,  and  made  him  know  that  he  was 
Garth,  and  not  another. 

First  he  grew  instinct  with  the  spirit  of 
an  ambitious,  haughty,  but  not  ungenerous 
man,  whose  stern  and  headstrong  temper 
was  mitigated  by  deep-lying  veins  of  tender- 
ness. His  effort  was  toward  freedom  and 
honor ;  but  the  immitigable  pride  and  self- 
will  that  nothing  could  subdue,  ever  tended 
to  hamper  and  pervert  his  fairest  purposes. 
At  last  the  noble  friendship,  which  might 
have  elevated  and  purified  him,  was  by  jeal- 
ous love  poisoned  into  hatred  and  treachery. 
Yet,  in  the  moment  when  the  murderer 
stood  witli  finger  on  trigger,  taking  his  fatal 
aim,  he  felt  a  thrill  of  horror  and  relenting, 
and  half  intended  to  forbear.  But  it  was 
too  late;  the  deed  was  done,  and  was  be- 
come a  part  of  the  past  and  of  the  doer,  and 
crowded  out  remorse.  He  had  made  his 
choice  between  good  and  evil ;  and  his  de- 
scendants, in  order  to  their  redemption, 
would  have  the  burden  of  his  sin  to  deal  with 
in  addition  to  their  own. 

"  I  have  felt  this  before,"  thought  the 
dreamer ;  "  this  spirit  has  been  in  me  from 
the  beginning,  and  has  his  battle  to  fight 
over  again  in  my  life." 

The  influence  became  indistinct  and 
ebbed  away,  and  a  new  one  entered  in  its 
place.  Garth's  heart  beat  faster  and  his 
blood  seemed  burning  hot.  The  soul  that 
now  possessed  him  was  like  the  last,  but 
endowed  with  more  fire  and  less  light,  with 
fewer  waverings  toward  good,  and  with 
more  downright  lust  for  ill.  His  look  was 
intolerant,  his  temper  dangerous  and  pas- 
sionate. But  he,  too.  could  win  men  to  lovo 
him,  and  loved  he  was  with  all  a  true  friend's 
heart.  And  once  more  a  woman — this  .time 
a  guilty  woman — came  between.  There  was 
no  misgiving  on  the  husband's  part ;  ho 
frankly  trusted  his  wife  with  his  friend  and 
his  friend  with  his  wife,  and  thought  no 
evil.  But  temptation  came  secretly,  and 
yielding  ;  and  worse  followed,  for  the  sinful 
union  must  needs  be  sealed  with  the  hus-. 
band's  blood.  Verily,  the  load  of  iniquity 
was  becoming  unwieldy ! 

Garth  stirred  in  his  sleep  and  breathed 


160 


GARTH. 


more  heavily;  he  owned  a  fellowship  with 
this  dark  spirit  not  less  than  with  the  former 
one  ;  the  possibility  of  a  like  crime  lived  in 
him,  if  he  did  not  strangle  it.  The  secret 
sympathy  with  sin  lies  nearer  to  the  natural 
heart  of  man  than  sympathy  with  virtue, 
and  an  evil  influence  affects  him  more  posi- 
tively than  many  good  ones — for  he  recog- 
nizes more  of  himself  in  it.  Good,  never- 
theless, if  the  man  acknowledge  in  it  not  of 
himself  but  of  God,  may  outweigh  all  the  evil 
in  the  world :  and  at  all  events  it  was  doubt- 
less well  for  Garth  that  his  next  ghostly  visi- 
tant was  of  a  different  complexion  from  the 
preceding  ones.  There  was  need  of  an  in- 
terval of  health  and  sanity. 

Here  was  now  a  purer  and  quieter  phase 
of  life;  an  organism  in  which  the  hot  blood 
of  the  race  might  cool  itself  a  little  ere  flow- 
ing further ;  a  personality,  grave,  thought- 
ful, and  silent ;  one  who  followed  the  sea, 
and  traveled  widely,  and  looked  much  at 
men.  But  as  the  stamp  of  lineage  was  less 
distinct  in  him  than  in  the  others,  so  was 
his  influence  upon  the  dreamer  less  power- 
ful, and  the  sympathy  between  them  less 
interior.  The  state  was  a  passive  rather 
than  an  active  one ;  space  was  given  to  draw 
breath  and  to  reconsider,  but  little  actual 
advance  was  made.  There  were  no  griev- 
ous sins,  but  neither  were  there  any  great 
struggles  or  victories ;  and  save  in  so  far  as 
rest  and  freedom  from  loss  are  themselves 
a  sort  of  gain,  the  tale  would  have  to  be  re- 
sumed at  the  next  step,  pretty  nearly  at  the 
point  where  it  left  off  before.  Pass  on, 
however,  inoffensive  soul,  and  may  he  who 
follows  be  the  stronger  because  of  thee ! 

The  visionary  succession  was  now  ap- 
proaching the  present  daylight,  and  the  mys- 
tic presence  which  next  held  sway  came  into 
closer  union  with  the  sleeper's  being  than  did 
any  of  those  who  had  gone  before.  He  was 
vehement,  adventurous  and  lawless  ;  with 
great  capacities,  energies,  and  silences ;  pas- 
sionate in  his  affinities  and  fatal  in  his  ha- 
treds. "Withal  a  strange  faculty  of  secrecy 
and  reticence — a  kind  of  rugged  cunning, 
compatible  with  rough  outspokenness  and 
stalwart  courage ;  and  joined  to  a  strong 
picturesqueness  of  aspect  and  manner.  He 
was  formed  to  quell  men  and  to  master  wom- 


en, and  in  all  ways  to  be  at  battle  with  the 
world.  It  was  fitting  that  he  was  born  to 
an  age  of  war  and  anarchy.  He,  too,  is 
destined  to  turn  against  those  who  love  him, 
and  to  shed  blood ;  but  his  sins  are  not 
without  remorse,  and  perhaps  his  worst- 
seeming  errors  are  the  result  rather  of  reck- 
lessness than  of  ill-intent.  Not  the  less  do 
they  remain  as  pitfalls  for  posterity ;  and  the 
prospect  has  never  looked  so  dark  as  at  the 
moment  when  this  last  turbulent  spirit  fades 
away. 

The  dream  is  near  its  end,  for  the  dead 
have  declared  themselves,  and  he  who  still 
lives  must  influence  the  dreamer  otherwise 
than  through  midnight  visions.  Yet  Garth, 
between  waking  and  sleeping,  has  borne  in 
upon  him  a  perception  of  his  father's  sphere. 
Lofty  and  refined  though  it  be,  it  is  too  little 
allied  with  the  passionate  weaknesses  of  its 
predecessors  to  work  their  regeneration. 
Such  a  man  puts  evil  to  flight,  not  takes  it 
up  and  transforms  it  into  good  ;  whereas  the 
enemy  must  be  fought  and  conquered  with 
his  own  weapons,  if  the  victory  is  to  hold. 
Such  a  man  can  only  raise  the  battle-field  to 
a  higher  level,  where  the  contest  will  rage 
with  a  more  comprehensive  intensity  — 
where  there  shall  be  no  forces  in  reserve, 
nor  any  avenues  of  retreat,  and  where  the 
issue,  however  it  fall,  will  be  final.  But 
happy  for  Garth  that  such  a  man  watched 
over  his  youth,  not  too  much  interfering  or 
fault-finding,  and  ever  obliging  the  wrong 
to  work  ont  its  own  correction  !  Deprived 
of  such  wise  guidance,  doubtless  worse 
things  would  have  befallen  him  than  had 
been  the  lot  of  his  ancestors.  Even  as  it 
was,  his  plight  was  critical  enough.  Tingling 
with  the  traits  and  impulses  of  six  genera- 
tions, he  walked  with  unsteady  balance  be- 
tween light  and  darkness.  He  followed  a 
vision  of  beauty  through  all  forms  of  life, 
and  would  fain  quench  his  thirst  with  no 
drink  less  noble  than  the  true  elixir  of  life ; 
but  how  many  a  poisonous  draught  sparkles 
and  tastes  as  well !  The  future  was  ominous: 
unholy  shapes  lurked  beside  the  pathway, 
plotting  to  overthrow  him.  Oh  for  some 
beneficent  goddess  to  shed  a  radiance  about 
his  footsteps,  and  shield  him  from  harmful 
clutches  in  the  folds  of  her  enchanted  veil ! 


A  POWWOW. 


161 


Garth  opened  his  eyes.  His  sleep  had 
brought  him  no  refreshment;  rather  it 
seemed  as  if  the  weight  of  two  centuries 
were  heavy  upon  his  shoulders.  As  he 
gazed  upward,  a  sort  of  floating  film  inter- 
vened hetween  his  eyes  and  the  large  star 
which  twinkled  in  the  zenith.  Now  it  hov- 
ered almost  within  his  grasp,  swaying  upon 
the  light  northern  hreeze.  It  sank  yet  lower, 
and  at  length  settled  gently  on  his  face.  A 
faint,  delicate  fragrance  eminated  from  it. 
What  was  it  ?  Garth  put  up  his  hand  doubt- 
fully, and  grasped  Elinor's  veil.  He  had 
missed  the  thing  he  came  to  seek,  but  this 
filmy  truant,  which  had  eluded  him  before 
sunset,  had  returned  with  the  veering  wind 
and  descended  upon  him  like  a  fragrant  bene- 
diction while  he  slept. 

The  young  man  rose  stiffly  to  his  feet, 
with  hot  head  and  shivering  limbs,  and  set 
off  homeward  along  the  ghostly  forest  lane, 
his  inky  shadow  silently  keeping  pace  with 
him,  like  an  evil  memory.  As  he  stumbled 
onward,  it  crossed  his  mind  how  he  had  fled 
down  this  same  path  twelve  years  before, 
leaving  what  he  believed  a  dead  body  out- 
stretched on  the  same  spot  whence  he  had 
just  now  arisen.  He  had  looked  forward 
to  the  gallows ;  and  had  rushed,  instead,  into 
the  soft  embrace  of  Madge.  What  more 
pleasing  disappointment  could  have  been 
imagined  ?  And  yet,  might  not  the  honest 
hug  of  the  hangman's  noose  have  saved  him 
many  a  trouble,  against  which  even  Madge's 
loving  arms  could  not  protect  him?  Was 
his  outlook  now  less  sinister,  on  the  whole, 
than  that  which  had  confronted  him  on  the 
terror-stricken  night  of  boyhood  ?  A  child's 
troubles  grow  out  of  the  earth,  and  may 
generally  be  uprooted  and  trampled  down ; 
but  in  after-life  they  seem  to  descend  from 
the  clouds,  and  are  not  so  easily  managed. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

A   POWWOW. 

IT  was  a  good  deal  after  midnight  when 
Garth  reached  Urmhurst,  and  paused  a  mo- 
ment under  the  porch  before  entering.  The 
wind  during  the  last  half-hour  had  waxed 
greatly  stronger,  and  whistled  shrewdly 
11 


round  the  northeast  corner  of  the  dark  and 
massive  old  house,  and  rattled  the  rose-vine 
which  climbed  over  Eve's  window,  and 
rustled  through  the  dried  oak-leaves  of  the 
porch.  It  was  a  cold  sharp  night :  winter 
was  hurrying  down  from  the  Arctic  Ocean, 
and  would  be  here  by  morning.  From  the 
valley  came  the  white  gleam  of  the  lake  and 
winding  river,  looking  as  if  the  frosty  gusts 
were  already  beginning  to  shiver  them  into 
ice.  The  valley  itself  was  bleak  and  deso- 
late, its  brown  woods  and  meadows  gradu- 
ally paling  to  gray,  until  Wabeno  lifted  its 
shadowy,  dim-gleaming  barrier  against  the 
farther  world.  Many  an  Urmson — all  those 
old  fellows  whose  dust  lay  in  yonder  grave- 
yard, but  whose  lives  Garth  had  gathered 
up  into  his  own  that  night — had  stood  where 
he  stood  now,  and  gazed  across  the  bleak, 
moonlit  valley  till  that  immemorial  moun- 
tain stopped  the  way.  The  stern  Puritan, 
in  his  jack-boots  and  steel  breastplate ;  the 
black-browed,  handsome,  reckless  soldier, 
who  followed  Phipps  to  Quebec ;  the  blue- 
eyed,  swarthy  mariner  who  had  traded  in 
the  East  Indies  and  in  Arcadia,  and  had 
traversed  all  the  world  between  ;  the  Revo- 
lutionary captain  in  blue  and  buff,  broad- 
shouldered,  grim,  choleric,  and  reticent- 
each  one  of  them  had  leaned  with  folded 
arms  against  this  stunted  oak-trunk,  and 
had  frowned  at  Wabeno  as  at  the  symbol  of 
an  irremovable  bar  in  the  way  of  his  suc- 
cess. But  not  one,  Garth  fancied,  had  borne 
so  heavy  and  unquiet  a  heart  as  he;  for 
they,  at  least,  had  been  forth  to  wrestle 
with  the  world,  and  had  done  something, 
good  or  bad,  that  had  had  a  flavor  and  a 
fashion  of  its  own,  and  was  not,  at  all  events, 
insignificant.-  But  he,  the  descendant  of  them 
all,  had  done  nothing;  had  only  vexed  his 
soul  with  doubts  and  broken  beginnings  and 
marrowless  compromises.  Yet  he  was  tho 
heir  of  their  qualities  as  well  of  their  name. 
What  was  tho  clog  in  his  machinery  that  pre- 
vented his  bringing  all  this  accumulated 
energy  to  bear  ?  Were  scruples  and  conscien- 
tiousness but  an  artful  device  of  the  devil  ?  If 
he  could  pluck  something  out  of  his  breast  and 
fling  it  away  forever,  would  not  the  world  lie 
at  his  feet  ?  If  Christ,  when  he  went  up  into 
that  high  place  whence  he  overlooked  all  tho 


162 


GARTH. 


kingdoms  of  the  earth,  had  chosen  to  comply 
with  his  companion's  moderate  condition, 
would  not  his  name  have  been  better  known 
and  celebrated  to-day  than  it  actually  had 
come  to  be  ? 

Garth  ground  his  heel  against  the  stone, 
and  it  was  wedged  in  the  cleft  of  the  granite 
threshold,  so  that  an  effort  was  needed  to 
pull  it  out.  The  fancy  suggested  itself  that 
the  old  Indian  underneath  had  put  forth  a 
skeleton  gripe,  with  the  intention  of  drag- 
ging him  down  into  the  grave,  and  taking 
revenge  upon  him  for  the  injuries  perpe- 
trated by  his  forefathers.  But  this  scheme 
of  retribution  did  not  meet  Garth's  views ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  brought  him  to  a  sudden 
recognition  of  the  immense  value  of  life, 
and  of  the  inestimable  possibilities  which 
were  within  his  power  to  realize.  If  lie 
could  but  fasten  his  hold  firmly  upon  some- 
thing definite  and  continuous,  he  felt  that 
he  could  climb  upward  to  the  stars,  even 
though  the  sins  of  twenty  generations  were 
piled  upon  his  shoulders.  Were  not  the 
worst  of  his  difficulties,  after  all,  imaginary  ? 
Had  he  not  been  a  little  insane  of  late  ?  or, 
at  least,  might  he  not  be  visited  presently 
by  some  luminous  inspiration  of  genius,  in 
comparison  with  which  ordinary  perception 
was  mere  purblindness  ?  He  passed  his  hand 
over  his  forehead,  and  was  startled  to  feel 
how  hot  it  was ;  and  yet,  how  chilly  was  the 
wind !  Heaven  forbid  that  he  should  be 
taken  ill  at  a  time  when  something  more  than 
common  good  health  was  to  be  wished  for! 

He  opened  the  heavy  green  door  and 
entered  the  house.  The  kitchen-fire  was 
alight,  and  Nikomis  sat  smoking  in  the 
chimney-corner.  On  the  table  stood  a  joint 
of  meat,  and  though,  in  spite  of  his  long 
fast,  Garth  now  felt  little  positive  appetite,  he 
managed  to  swallow  somewhat,  and  then,  in- 
stead of  drinking  the  tea  which  Nokomis  had 
ready  for  him,  he  asked  the  old  lady  whether 
she  could  not  find  him  any  whiskey. 

Being  an  Indian,  it  was  entirely  beneath 
Nikomis  to  manifest  any  surprise  even  at 
so  unprecedented  a  demand  as  this.  As  for 
whiskey,  no  house  in  New  Hampshire,  ex- 
cept the  meeting-houses,  was  ever  known 
to  be  without  it ;  and  Urmhurst  was  no  ex- 
ception to  the  rule,  although  the  only  mem- 


ber of  the  household  who  was  in  the  habit 
of  consuming  it  was  Nikomis  herself.  Go- 
lightley,  indeed,  occasionally  took  a  glass» 
embellished  with  a  little  hot  water  and  a 
lump  of  sugar,  but  neither  Cuthbert  nor 
Garth  was  inclined  to  keep  him  company. 
To-night,  however,  the  young  man  was  sen- 
sible of  a  pervading  shiver  such  as  only  a 
draught  of  fire  could  allay.  He  had  taken 
cold,  and  so  potent,  because  unusual,  a  rem- 
edy could  hardly  fail  to  check  its  further 
progress. 

Xikomis  grunted,  and  laid  down  her 
pipe.  The  liquor  was  not  far  off ;  in  truth, 
she  forthwith  drew  from  her  pocket  a  bat- 
tered pewter  flask  which  proved  to  be  half 
full  of  it.  She  poured  some  into  a  tumbler, 
added  a  little  water  from  the  teakettle,  and 
a  few  other  ingredients,  stirred  it  up,  tasted 
it,  and  then  handed  it  to  the  young  man 
with  a  grunt  of  emphatic  recommendation. 
He  sipped  it,  shuddered,  sipped  again,  laid 
down  the  spoon,  and  resolutely  drank  off 
about  half  of  the  mixture. 

"  There's  something  very  genuine  about 
that,  IsTikomis,"  he  said,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes ;  "  1  dare  say  I  might  get  to  like  it  in 
time." 

"  Ugh !  "  responded  Nikomis,  relighting 
her  pipe,  and  gazing  at  the  fire  ;  "  dare  say 
— dare  say  !  " 

As  was  usual  after  supper-time,  the  kitch- 
en was  unlighted  save  for  the  flickering 
firelight,  and  even  this  had  now  subsided  to 
a  ruddy  glow,  which  served  to  illumine 
hardly  more  than  the  cavernous  fireplace. 
Garth  drew  the  antique  oaken  chair  far  up 
on  the  hearth,  and  held  his  hands  toward 
the  embers,  while  his  dusky  companion 
puffed  at  her  pipe,  and  the  slowly-emitted 
smoke  hung  and  swayed  in  fine  clouds  until 
it  came  within  the  draught  of  the  chimney, 
which  whisked  it  suddenly  upward  and  out 
of  sight.  It  was  a  snug  old  place,  this  chim- 
ney-corner, and  just  now  it  seemed  to  Garth 
to  contain  the  only  bit  of  human  life  that 
was  left  in  the  world.  Here  sat  Nikomis 
and  himself,  types  and  compendiums  of  two 
hostile  peoples,  literally  hobnobbing  together 
in  the  most  amicable  manner  imaginable. 
All  the  bitterness  of  a  traditional  and  hered- 
itary enmity  had  simmered  down  to  yonder 


A   POWWOW. 


163 


pungent  noggin  of  punch,  or  was  vanishing 
into  oblivion  along  with  the  fumes  from  the 
Indian's  pipe-bowl.  But  this  was  only  be- 
cause they  were  the  last  of  their  race ;  all 
the  rest  had  been  exterminated  on  both 
sides ;  and,  Nikomis  and  he,  having  before 
them  the  alternative  of  either  scalping  each 
other,  or  of  making  up  all  grievances  over  a 
feast  of  whiskey  and  tobacco,  had  wisely 
decided  upon  the  latter  course,  and  had 
thereby  become  aware,  at  this  late  day, 
what  pleasant  company  they  had  been  deny- 
ing themselves  during  the  latter  centuries. 

"  What  a  good  thing  it  would  have  been, 
Nikomis,"  said  Garth,  "  if  that  old  sachem 
of  yours  and  my  contemporary  ancestor  could 
have  come  to  an  understanding  as  cozy  and 
sensible  as  this,  instead  of  pitching  into  one 
another  with  blunderbusses  and  tomahawks ! 
I  wish  you  had  been  sitting  here  two  hun- 
dred years  instead  of  ten.  But  two  hun- 
dred years  ago  you  would  have  brewed  me 
a  cup  of  poison  instead  of  a  glass  of  grog." 

The  fire  in  the  old  lady's  pipe-bowl 
glowed  and  dulled  again,  but  she  said  noth- 
ing. Garth  took  another  sip  from  his  tum- 
bler, and  continued : 

"  Nikomis,  if  you  really  represent  the 
posterity  of  the  old  sachem,  as  my  father 
says,  we  owe  you  much  more  than  bare 
house-room.  But,  if,  as  I  suspect,  your 
people  were  the  kidnappers  of  my  aunt 
Eve,  the  account  between  us  may  be  con- 
sidered balanced.  Now,  tell  me  honestly, 
was  it  not  so  ?  " 

"Nikomis  old  squaw  —  know  nothing," 
grunted  the  Indian,  after  a  pause.  "  Why 
you  ask,  Garth?  What  you  think  we  do 
with  Eve  ?  Think  we  scalp — um  ?  " 

Garth  shook  his  head.  "It  isn't  likely 
you  would  have  come  to  Urmhurst  if  Eve's 
scalp  had  been  among  your  collection,"  said 
he.  "  But,  if  she  lived  to  marry  one  of  your 
tribe,  Urmhurst  and  a  legacy  would  belong 
to  her  children." 

"  Why  you  talk  that  way,  Garth  ?  Ni- 
komis old  squaw ;  papoose  all  dead ;  tribe 
all  dead.  Why  you  talk  so — urn  ?  " 

"  I  talk  of  what  I  wish  were  true,"  re- 
turned he,  grasping  his  hair  with  both 
hands,  and  resting  his  elbows  on  his  knees. 
"  I  can  conceive  of  nothing  better  than  to 


leave  this  blood-stained  old  Urmhurst  to  a 
descendant  of  your  side  and  mine.  It  isn't 
your  sachem,  but  we  Urmsons,  who  have 
really  been  buried  underneath  this  great 
heavy  house  all  these  generations  past.  No 
good  will  come  to  us  till  it  is  either  got  into 
other  hands  or  burned  down." 

"  Ugh !  "  assented  Nikomis,  with  smoky 
utterance.  "  Big  house  —big  curse — ugh !  " 

"  A  Avigwam  is  much  better,"  continued 
Garth  ;  "  better  even  than  a  grave,  at  least 
so  far  as  other  people  are  concerned.  A 
grave  is  a  selfish  luxury,  apt  to  make  a 
quarrel  among  survivors.  Only  the  last 
man — supposing  him  to  have  dug  his  own 
pit  beforehand — can  drop  into  it  with  the 
certainty  of  not  causing  a  spirit  of  strife  to 
rise  up  out  of  it.  Nikomis,  do  you  know 
that  I'm  going  to  be  married  ?  " 

He.  raised  his  head  as  he  made  the  in- 
quiry, but  his  interlocutor  answered  only 
with  a  puff  of  smoke ;  so  he  resumed  his 
former  position,  and  continued  : 

"  And,  since  my  wife  wants  to  see  the 
world,  we  shall  probably  leave  Urmhurst  to 
my  father  and  you.  You  must  take  care  of 
him  till  we  come  back." 

u  How  long-a-that  ? "  demanded  Niko- 
mis. 

Garth  gave  a  gruff,  short  laugh.  "A 
year  or  more — as  long  as  the  whim  lasts." 

"  Cuthbert  dead  in  a  year,"  observed  the 
sibyl,  smokily.  "  Nikomis  too,  maybe." 

"  My  father  dead  in  a  year !  "  repeated 
Garth,  with  a  momentary  sinking  of  the 
heart.  He  sat  upright  in  his  chair  and 
looked  hard  at  the  wrinkled  bronze  statue 
that  smoked  so  impassively  in  its  sombre 
niche.  He  took  the  tumbler  from  the  hob 
and  slowly  drank  what  was  left  of  the  con- 
tents, thfen  cleared  his  throat,  and  said,  very 
gently,  "  My  father  is  not  an  old  man,  Ni- 
komis." But  the  old  Indian,  having  com- 
mitted herself  to  an  assertion,  was  evidently 
resolved  that  it  should  stand  unaltered,  right 
or  wrong.  Meanwhile  her  ominous  words, 
whether  justifiable  or  not,  sank,  during  the 
few  minutes'  silence  that  ensued,  so  deeply 
into  Garth's  centre  of  existence,  that  the 
outward  effect  was  the  same  as  if  they  had 
altogether  passed  out  of  his  memory.  He 
made  no  further  allusion  to  them  ;  he  could 


164 


GAPwTH. 


not  talk — could  hardly  think — so  far  below 
the  surface  as  they  lay.  Nevertheless,  they 
could  tinge  every  drop  of  blood  that  coursed 
through  his  veins.  The  only  ostensible  re- 
sult, however,  took  the  form  of  a  resentful 
impulse  against  his  uncle  and  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den.  "  Meddlesome  fools  !  "  he  whispered, 
setting  his  teeth  hard  together ;  "  they've 
been  babbling  their  nonsense  here,  and  she 
got  it  from  them." 

"  That  was  a  good  punch,"  he  remarked, 
presently  ;  "  I  believe  it's  gone  to  my  head, 
and  made  me  talkative.  Suppose  you  let 
me  have  a  pull  at  your  pipe,"  he  added,  ob- 
serving that  Nikomis  was  knocking  out  the 
dead  ashes  preparatory  to  refilling  it.  She 
recharged  it,  still  silently,  and  handed  it  to 
him.  It  was  an  old  red-clay  pipe,  curiously 
chased  about  the  bowl — such  a  pipe  as  the 
sagamores  might  have  smoked  in  the  time 
of  Columbus,  or  earlier.  As  Garth  took  it, 
and  set  it  going  with  a  brand  from  the  fire, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  it  was  one  of  Niko- 
mis's  most  precious  possessions,  and  had 
never,  so  far  as  anybody  knew,  been  seen  in 
another  mouth  than  hers  since  her  appear- 
ance in  Urmsworth.  Her  present  surrender 
of  it,  therefore,  must  be  looked  upon  as  a 
really  extraordinary  piece  of  condescension. 
•'  The  calumet  of  peace,  Nikomis,"  he  said, 
with  a  smile,  as  he  puffed  out  the  first 
gray  cloud.  "  This  ought  to  complete  my 
cure." 

The  swarthy  sibyl  took  a  dry  stick  of 
wood  from  the  oven  and  laid  it  on  the  glow- 
ing embers.  It  quickly  caught  fire,  and 
flooded  Garth's  face  and  figure  with  dancing 
light.  She  studied  him  for  a  moment  with 
her  wrinkled  eyes,  and  then  asked,  ab- 
ruptly : 

"  How  you  like  Sam — urn  ?  " 

"  I  ought  to  like  him,  since  I  gave  him  a 
thrashing,"  replied  the  young  man,  meeting 
her  look  with  a  glance  of  momentary  curi- 
osity ;  "  but,  I  think  that  white  rascal,  who 
was  said  to  be  his  father,  spoiled  him.  But 
I  dare  say  he's  improved  since  he  was  here. 
Have  you  heard  of  him  lately  ?  " 

"  Ugh !  he  great  man  now :  very  rich. 
Come  here  by-'n' -by.  Ugh!  very  rich." 

Garth  was  aware  that  Nikomis  had  re- 
ceived occasional  intelligence  of  Sam  ever 


since  he  went  away ;  but  this  was  the  first 
time  she  had  ever  volunteered  any  informa- 
tion about  him ;  and,  Garth,  not  having 
potent  faith  in  his  old  associate's  manly 
worth,  had  delicately  forborne  to  push  his 
inquiries  beyond  the  bounds  of  formal  polite- 
ness. But  the  idea  of  Sam  in  the  character 
of  a  great  and  wealthy  man  came  as  an  amus- 
ing surprise. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  he  said,  in  his 
deep,  kindly  tones.  "  And  has  he  a  family 
along  with  his  other  riches  ?  " 

"No  squaw  yet,"  rejoined  Nikomis,  with 
her  characteristic  grunt.  "  Sam  get  squaw 
here.  He  live  here ;  not  go  'way.  Great 
man." 

.  "  And  who  is  his   squaw  to  be  ? "  in- 
quired Garth,  pleasantly. 

"  Madge  his  squaw,"  replied  Nikomis, 
with  the  most  phlegmatic  composure. 

Garth  stared  a  moment,  but,  on  second 
thoughts,  laughed  very  good-naturedly.  He 
was  not  so  used  to  conversation  with  this 
fantastic  old  personage  as  to  be  always  pre- 
pared for  her  peculiar  and  unheralded  flashes 
of  humor. 

"But,  I  thought  Madge  was  to  be  my 
squaw,"  he  said.  "  Does  Sam  mean  to  fight 
me  for  her  again  ?  ^Till  no  one  else  suit 
him  ?  " 

"  He  take  Madge — you  take  Elinor !  " 
grunted  the  sibyl,  as  composedly  as  before. 

"You're  not  a  good  match-maker,"  re- 
turned Garth,  growing  grave  again.  "  It's 
a  more  complicated  business  with  ns  than 
with  the  red  people.  But  Til  make  this 
bargain  with  you,"  he  added,  smiling  once 
more — for  he  was  in  a  singular  mood  of  pro- 
found shallowness,  and  more  or  less  defiant 
and  reckless  withal — "  if  Madge  tells  me 
that  she  prefers  Sam  to  me,  and  if,  then, 
Miss  Golightley  offers  me  her  hand,  I'll  take 
it." 

"  Ugh  !  ugh !  "  assented  Nikomis ;  and,  as 
if  to  ratify  the  agreement,  she  stretched  out 
a  dark  talon  for  the  calumet.  "What-a- 
good-a-have  wrong  squaw — um?  Sam  rich 
man,  take  Madge ;  you  picture-man,  take 
Elinor.  Tell  you  what,  Garth,  you  not  very 
wise.  You  think  Madge  care  for  you  ?  " 
Here  Nikomis  made  a  sound  in  her  throat 
like  a  crow  cawing  under  its  breath,  at  the 


A  POWWOW. 


165 


same  time  shaking  her  head  slowly.  "You 
not  very  wise." 

These  deliberate  attacks  upon  the  very 
roots  of  his  hopes  and  happiness  might  have 
irritated  him,  coming  from  any  other  mouth 
than  Nikomis's,  or  dismayed  him,  but  that 
he  believed  unalterably  in  Madge's  affection. 
As  for  poor  Sam,  if  Garth  could  have  ac- 
cepted the  idea  that  the  vagabond  half- 
breed  was  really  capable  of  loving  her,  he 
would  have  felt  some  compassion  and  even  a 
little  respect  for  him.  But  he  saw  in  old  Ni- 
komis's  grotesque  utterances  only  the  halt- 
cunning,  half-senile  attempts  of  a  tenacious 
but  narrow  and  decaying  mind  to  realize  a 
long-cherished  though  hitherto  unacknowl- 
edged purpose.  And — his  mood  to-night 
being,  as  I  have  said,  somewhat  reckless  and 
defiant,  owing  either  to  the  whiskey,  or  to 
the  peculiar  effect  upon  his  brain  of  the  chill 
he  had  got  while  dreaming  in  the  woods  be- 
neath the  moon,  or  to  the  stress  of  things  in 
general — he  chose  to  amuse  himself  by  hu- 
moring the  ancient  squaw's  whim.  He  felt 
free  to  converse  with  her  in  a  strain  of  fan- 
ciful extravagance  such  as  he  could  have 
permitted  himself  with  no  one  else,  and 
which,  just  at  this  time,  was  especially  com- 
forting to  him.  He  was  grateful  to  her  for 
being  precisely  the  strange,  unorthodox,  half- 
savage  creature  that  she  was,  and  would  not 
have  exchanged  her  company  for  that  of  the 
most  charming  civilized  woman  in  the  world. 
He  was  aware  of  the  stirring  of  something 
unorthodox  and  savage  within  himself,  which 
rendered  a  contact  with  the  Indian's  nature 
congenial  and  stimulating. 

"  I  can  understand  your  knowing  Madge's 
heart,  Nikomis,"  said  he;  "you  were  inti- 
mate with  her  all  the  time  I  was  away.  But 
are  you  as  sure  about  Miss  Golightley  ?  If 
she  were  to  refuse  me,  after  Madge  had 
left  me  in  the  lurch,  I  should  be  obliged  to 
take  your  Sam's  scalp." 

The  idea  of  a  woman's  refusing  a  man 
who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  have  her 
seemed  to  be  beyond  Nikomis's  primitive 
conceptions.  What  her  own  romance  might 
have  been  is  unknown :  perhaps,  after  a 
good  stand-up  fight,  she  was  knocked  down 
with  effectiveness  enough  to  satisfy  her 
maidenly  scruples,  and  so  borne  off  to  her 


husband's  wigwam;  although  the  North 
American  Indians  usually  manage  these 
matters  rather  in  a  mercantile  spirit.  At 
all  events,  the  wooers  where  Nikomis  was 
brought  up  had  evidently  been  in  the  habit 
of  carrying  their  point,  one  way  or  another ; 
and  when  Garth  suggested  the  contingency 
of  Elinor's  refusing  him,  she  replied  with  a 
grunt  of  uncompromising  contempt  for  so 
paltry  an  objection. 

"  Then  you  make  her !  " 

"  You  are  a  true  sibyl !  "  exclaimed  the 
young  man.  "  You're  much  wiser  than 
civilization,  Nikomis  !  Of  course — make 
her!  WThy  wasn't  all  the  world  born  In- 
dian?— all  warriors  and  squaws  and  wig- 
wams ?  I  might  have  felt  as  if  I  were  alive 
then.  Or  beasts!  why  aren't  we  bears  and 
lions,  instead  of  pottering  about  between 
heaven  and  earth,  afraid  to  say  what  we 
think,  or  do  what  we  wish  ?  I  want  to  roar, 
and  have  no  soul,  and  tear  my  enemies  to 
pieces  with  my  teeth  and  claws,  and  eat 
them  raw  !  ha,  ha,  ha !  No  right  and  wrong, 
and  duty  and  law — only  instinct." 

This  rhapsody  was  uttered  in  Garth's 
customary  low  but  powerful  bass  voice,  and 
with  such  savage  zest  as  might  have  stirred 
Nikomis's  wild  old  blood  better  than  a  war- 
whoop  would  have  done. 

"Ugh,  ugh!  "quoth  she;  and  after  an 
interval  again,  with  confirmed  approval, 
"  Ugh !  " 

"  But  we  are  forgetting  my  uncle,"  re- 
sumed Garth,  after  a  short  silence.  "  If 
I  don't  take  Sam's  scalp,  I  must  have 
his.  He  thinks  Miss  Golightley  belongs  to 
him ! " 

"  Caw !  his  scalp  no  good,"  said  Niko- 
mis, with  a  motion  of  her  hand,  as  if  throw- 
ing away  so  pitiful  a  bauble.  u  You  take  her 
— he  do  nothing!  Caw!  he  nobody.  Niko- 
mis put  him-a-fire  'ml  burn  up!  You  take 
her ;  me  fix  him." 

"  Let's  get  him  and  put  him  in  the  range 
now,"  suggested  Garth,  rubbing  his  hands 
and  chuckling.  "  He'll  keep  us  warm  while 
we're  drinking  another  glass  of  punch.  Shall 
we  take  him  whole,  or  split  him  up  into 
kindlings  ?  " 

"No  need  a-that,"  replied  the  other, 
gravely;  and  then,  peering  at  Garth  through 


166 


GARTH. 


her  cloud  of  smoke,  "  you  think-a-make  fun 
—urn  ? " 

"  Yes ;  fun  worth  making.  What,  you 
mean  '  make-believe  ? '  No,  no !  burn  him, 
and  the  house  with  him,  if  you  like.  That 
might  be  the  best  plan." 

"  You  not  wise,  Garth,"  repeated  Niko- 
mis,  with  something  of  the  pride  of  superi- 
or faculties  in  her  manner.  "Meburnhim- 
a-not — see  him — not  touch  him.  He  go  Bos- 
ton— go  London :  Nikomis  sit-home  in  kitch- 
en 'nd  burn  him  all  up.  Ugh !  " 

"  Witchcraft !  "  exclaimed  Garth,  becom- 
ing suddenly  enlightened ;  and  truly  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  old  lady  at  this  moment, 
bending  forward  from  the  shadow  of  her 
niche  into  the  red  glow  of  the  firelight, 
which  kindled  up  her  dark,  bronze  features, 
the  wrinkled  eyes,  the  prominent  cheek- 
bones, the  great  hooked  nose,  and  the  wide 
thin  lips,  and  flickered  upon  the  grizzled 
lengths  of  coarse,  straight  hair  that  hung 
down  on  each  side  of  her  furrowed  cheeks — 
her  aspect  certainly  was  as  witch-like  as 
ever  woman  wore — "witchcraft!  Nikomis, 
I  had  forgotten.  You'll  make  a  wax  image 
of  him,  and  melt  it  before  a  slow  fire ;  or 
write  a  spell  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and  light 
your  pipe  with  it !  Why,  a  witch  is  better 
than  either  an  Indian  or  a  wild  beast. 
Have  you  got  the  paper  with  you — or  the 
image  ? " 

Before  Nikomis  could  answer,  the  con- 
versation had  a  sudden  interruption.  There 
was  a  sound  of  low,  steady  knocking,  whence 
proceeding  Garth  could  not  at  first  deter- 
mine. It  seemed  to  come  from  the  air  round 
about  them.  Nikomis,  however,  immediate- 
ly pointed  upward.  Cuthbert's  room  was 
overhead,  and  evidently  he  was  awake  and 
knocking  on  the  floor.  Garth  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

"  Is  my  father  ill  ?     Has  he  been  ? " 

Nikomis  also  had  risen,  and  stood  half 
revealed  in  the  glimmer,  like  a  grotesque  ap- 
parition which  the  next  moment  would  van- 
ish altogether.  After  listening  an  instant, 
she  quietly  resumed  her  seat  in  the  chimney- 
corner. 

"He  all  right,"  said  she;  "powwow 
wake  him  up,  maybe.  You  go  see,  Garth ; 
maybe  he  want  you." 


Garth  left  the  kitchen  with  quick,  heavy 
steps,  and  bounded  up-stairs.  His  father's 
door  was  ajar;  and,  as  he  approached,  it 
opened  wide,  and  he  saw  his  father  standing 
in  his  dressing-gown,  with  a  lighted  lamp  in 
his  hand. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

PUTTING    THE    CASE. 

GARTH  looked  anxiously  at  Mr.  Urmbon's 
pale,  composed  face.  Under  the  rigorous 
oppression  of  a  heavy  fear,  his  late  half-de- 
lirious mood  had  been  suddenly  quenched, 
as  fire  is  smothered  by  ashes.  "  Is  anything 
the  matter,  father  ? "  he  asked,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"So  I  began  to  think,"  replied  Mr.  Urm- 
son.  "Come  in  out  of  this  cold  entry." 
He  led  the  way  into  the  study,  and  set  the 
lamp  on  the  table.  "How's  this?"  he  con- 
tinued, standing  in  front  of  his  son.  "  You've 
been  smoking  Mkomis's  tobacco,  you  vil- 
lain, and  drinking  her  whiskey  too,  I  be- 
lieve ! " 

Garth  could  not  repress  a  smile  of  relief 
at  hearing  himself  called  villain — a  term  of 
endearment  which  recalled  the  boyish  days 
when  he  was  always  either  villain,  troglo- 
dyte, ragamuffin,  sockdolager,  Hottentot,  or 
whatever  else  his  father's  gift  for  bestowing 
grotesque  epithets  could  devise,  and  which 
likewise  seemed  to  intimate  that  his  fears 
had  been  premature,  since  a  man  sick  unto 
death  would  not  be  apt  to  indulge  in  playful 
banter.  The  two  sat  down,  Mr.  Urmson  in 
the  rough-hewed,  but  indestructible  old  black 
oak  chair,  upholstered  in  figured  green  vel- 
vet, which  was  said  to  be  a  good  deal  older 
than  Urmhurst  itself,  Garth  in  the  broad 
window-sill  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

The  study  was  large,  furnished  with  mas- 
sive and  antique  simplicity;  the  floor  was 
brown  and  bare  save  for  a  few  rugs;  the 
walls  above  the  dark  wainscot  were  picture- 
less  and  unornamented.  At  one  end  of  the 
room  was  a  deep  alcove  fitted  up  with  book- 
shelves, and  containing  the  whole  of  Mr. 
Urmson's  practical  library — a  somewhat  re- 
markably small  one  for  a  literary  man.  The 
writing-table  was  the  most  modern  piece  of 


PUTTING  THE  CASE. 


167 


furniture  in  the  study,  large,  convenient,  and 
kept  in  good  order.  The  fireplace,  although 
smaller  than  those  on  the  lower  floor  of  the 
house,  was  yet  of  ample  extent ;  and  a  log 
of  wood  still  glowed  and  nickered,  lying 
athwart  the  brass-headed  fire-dogs.  A  se- 
rene, ascetic,  yet  mellow  and  pleasant  at- 
mosphere pervaded  the  place,  and  Mr.  Urra- 
son  himself,  in  his  long,  sober-colored  dress- 
ing-gown, looked  like  an  enlightened  and 
humanized  acolyte.  Since  his  wife's  deatli 
he  had  become  more  and  more  secluded  in 
his  habits,  not  as  if  repelling  the  world,  for 
the  essential  kindliness  which  underlay  his 
superficial  manner  of  demure  satire  was 
never  obscured ;  but  as  failing  by  mild  de- 
grees to  find  a  certain  sort  of  mystic  sunshine 
there  familiar  to  his  youth. 

Garth,  being  seated,  and  his  immediate 
anxiety  appeased,  allowed  an  odd  humor  of 
dullness  to  possess  him.  He  leaned  his  elbow 
on  his  knee,  and  his  chin  on  his  hand,  and 
stolidly  beheld  the  still-running  sands  of  the 
old  hour-glass  which  stood  beside  his  fa- 
ther's desk,  its  crystal  sides  uncracked  by 
more  than  ninety  years  of  use,  though  one 
of  the  four  ebony  columns  of  its  frame  had 
given  way  beneath  the  weight  of  the  count- 
less hours  that  it  had  undergone.  Mr.  Urm- 
son,  quietly  but  keenly  observing  him,  curved 
the  fine  corners  of  his  mouth  with  a  sub- 
dued, humorous  smile.  Almost  immediate- 
ly, however,  the  smile  passed  away,  for  Mr. 
Urmson's  smiles  of  late  years,  though  they 
came  nearly  as  readily  as  of  yore,  and  were 
no  less  pleasant  than  ever,  were  yet  much 
shorter-lived  than  formerly,  the  sunshine 
that  called  them  into  existence  seeming  in- 
adequate to  their  long  preservation.  "We  can 
remember  when  they  used  to  play  thought- 
fully about  his  clear  face,  subsiding  and  si- 
lently brightening  again  for  minutes,  but 
now  they  appeared  to  share  the  infirmity  at- 
tendant upon  nearly  seventy  not  altogether 
unshadowed  years.  Some  old  men  smile 
chronically,  with  the  vacant,  sly  happiness 
of  idle  senility ;  others  suffer  their  features  to 
stiffen  into  wrinkled  and  hoary  harshness. 
Cuthbert  Urmson's  spirit  was  too  wholesome 
and  too  strong  for  either  feeble  alternative, 
but  perhaps  it  had  grown  a  trifle  weary  of 
its  life-long  burden  of  earth,  and  impatient 


of  the  labor  of  urging  a  cloddish,  incom- 
plete response  to  the  transcendent  inner 
movements. 

After  red  sand  enough  to  fill  a  thimble 
had  flowed  from  the  upper  into  the  lower 
bulb  of  the  primitive  timepiece  which  Mr. 
Urmson  preferred  to  any  modern  innova- 
tions, he  said,  tapping  his  chin  with  his  fore- 
finger, and  moving  his  foot  forth  and  then 
back  beneath  the  table:  "You  seem  to  be 
ripe  for  bed,  old  gentleman ;  we  can  talk  to- 
morrow; I  only  wanted  to  know  whether 
you'd  found  your  letter." 

Garth  passed  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head, as  if  brushing  away  troublesome  cob- 
webs, and  paused,  apparently  for  the  purpose 
of  gathering  his  wits  together  before  reply- 
ing. "I  should  have  come  up  at  once  if  I'd 
known  you  were  awake,"  he  said.  "The 
letter  is  lost ;  it  was  from  Jack  Selwyn." 

"  So  I  thought,  from  the  envelope." 

"The  amount  of  it  is,"  continued  Garth, 
rousing  himself  with  another  effort,  "that 
Jack  has  found  out  something  about  the 
Tenterden  money." 

"Has  he  got  it  back?" 

""What?  —  Oh,  he  knows  who  robbed 
them." 

"Who  is  the  robber?"  demanded  Mr. 
Urmson,  in  a  tone  low  but  ringing,  and  with 
a  sudden  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

"  He  doesn't  say.  He  will  be  here  in  a 
few  weeks.  Some  mystery  or  other.  That 
is  why  I  wanted  to  find  the  veil.  If  any  one 
else  were  to —  "What  did  I  say?  I  mean 
the  letter.  But  it  must  have  got  dissolved  at 
the  dam." 

"  Have  you  spoken  about  it  to  your  un- 
cle ? "  asked  Mr.  Urmson,  after  a  pause. 

Garth  shook  his  head.  "  There's  some- 
thing wrong  between  Jack  and  my  uncle. 
Jack  was  disrespectful,  probably.  No,  he 
said  no  one  was  to  be  told.  I  might  have 
told  Miss  Golightley,  though,  but  that — it 
turns  out  to  be  of  no  consequence.  She 
won't  need  the  money  when  she  gets  it." 

Mr.  Urmson  moved  his  eyebrows  inquir- 
ingly. 

"  She  is  to  marry  my  uncle,"  explained 
Garth,  shortly. 

His  father  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
held  his  chin  musingly  between  his  fore- 


168 


GARTH. 


finger  and  thumb.  "  They  are  engaged, 
then,"  he  murmured;  and  added,  after  a 
pause,  with  an  arch  lifting  of  the  brows: 
"Why,  I  don't  see  how  Golightley  could 
have  done  better.  "What  is  your  objection? 
Shall  no  one  marry  except  you  ?  " 

"It's  a  shame,"  said  Garth,  seeming  at 
length  to  get  the  better  of  his  stolidity. 
"  But  she  did  it  for  Mrs.  Tenterden's  sake." 

"  Oh,  then  you  imagine  her  to  be  not  in 
love  ?  Why,  your  uncle  seems  to  me  a  very 
fascinating  as  well  as  clever  fellow :  and 
highly-educated  young  ladies  like  Miss  Eli- 
nor are  apt  to  admire  men  a  good  deal  older 
than  themselves.  I  suppose,  at  any  rate, 
there's  no  doubt  about  his  being  in  love  with 
her?" 

"  Anybody  might  love  her." 

"To  tell  the  truth,  this  surprises  me  a 
little;  it  had  got  into  my  head  that,  if  he 
were  smitten  by  one  person  more  than  an- 
other, it  was  by  Madge.  And,  Garth,  if  you 
are  seriously  opposed  to  this  match,  I  am 
still  inclined  to  think  that  you  might  stave 
it  off  by  presenting  him  with  Madge  as  a 
substitute." 

Garth  remained  sullenly  silent  to  this 
suggestion ;  but  his  father,  seemingly  deter- 
mined to  prick  him  through  his  sullenness, 
continued  on  in  the  same  vein : 

"To  be  sure,  there  are  difficulties  in  the 
way  ;  in  some  respects  it  seems  like  a  game 
at  cross-purposes.  Miss  Elinor,  by  your 
notion,  marries  to  enrich  Mrs.  Tenterden; 
and  Golightley,  as  he  tells  me,  owes  his 
whole  fortune  to  some  lucky  help  that  Mr. 
Tenterden  gave  him  at  a  critical  moment. 
So  he  may  be  marrying  from  a  sense  of  duty 
or  gratitude  too.  Really,  it  looks  as  if  they 
ought  to  be  spoken  to.  There's  no  telling 
what  troublesome  and  absurd  embarrass- 
ments an  overgrown  sense  of  duty  may  lead 
people  into." 

"  H'm !  "  growled  Garth,  moving  his  head 
assentingly. 

"But  then,"  proceeded  Mr.  TJrmson, 
"  even  supposing  this  sense  of  duty  done 
away  with,  there  remain  further  difficulties. 
Madge  herself  might  object  to  being  trans- 
ferred; or,  if  she  could  be  persuaded,  the 
objection  might  possibly  come  from  you. 
It's  a  pity  you  can't  gird  on  sword  and  shield 


and  settle  the  matter,  as  your  forefathers 
would  have  done,  by  hacking  and  thrusting. 
But  in  this  age  I  fear  there's  no  hope  of  that 
kind  of  rescue." 

"I  have  no  hopes,"  was  Garth's  moody 
rejoinder. 

"Besides,"  added  his  father,  following 
out  his  train  of  thought  without  heed  of  the 
interruption,  "if  it  were  morally  right  to 
cut  off  your  uncle's  head  or  run  him  through 
the  midriff,  it  would  still  be  a  rash  and  im- 
politic act.  He  hasn't  yet  paid  you  for  your 
picture,  has  he  ?  and  your  very  marriage 
seems  to  depend  on  his  doing  that." 

"Father,  I  have  had  a  dream,  and  a 
strange  talk  with  Nikomis,  and  my  head 
feels  queerly.  I'm  in  a  bad  humor,  and  I 
can't  pretend  otherwise.  If  Uncle  Golight- 
ley pays  me  for  my  picture,  I  shall  never 
paint  again." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mr.  Urmson,  with  a 
quiet  look. 

"Madge  doesn't  care  for  painting,"  said 
the  other. 

"  What  shall  you  do  instead  ? " 

"I  don't  know.     Be  a  farmer." 

"  Does  Madge  dislike  painting  so  much 
as  to  like  poverty  better?  If  you  go  on  as 
you  have  begun,  painting  would  make  you 
richer  than  farming.  Does  she  fully  under- 
stand that  ? " 

"It's  hard  to  tell  what  she  really  wants. 
I  ought  to  be  Julius  Caesar  and  Crcesus  made 
into  one.  But  farming  is  my  only  alterna- 
tive." 

Mr.  Urmson  leaned  his  thin  cheek  on  his 
hand,  and  appeared  to  meditate.  "I  don't 
understand,  from  what  you  say,  whether 
you  give  up  art  and  culture  for  digging  and 
planting  to  please  yourself  or  her.  If  it's  a 
whim  of  hers,  which  you  know  to  be  unwise, 
might  it  not  be  advisable  to  say  no  to  it? " 

"It  is  my  whim,"  said  Garth,  with  some- 
thing of  a  savage  effort,  raising  his  face.  "  I 
thought  you  would  have  seen  through  it, 
father." 

"  When  you  were  a  boy,  I  remember  you 
used  to  be  afraid  of  painting,  or  ashamed  of 
it—" 

"  Well,  painting  is  ashamed  of  me  now." 

"  Oh !  But  let  us  see,  old  gentleman. 
If  you  have  compromised  with  your  con- 


PUTTING  THE  CASE. 


169 


science  for  the  sake  of  getting  married  a  lit- 
tle sooner,  but  intend  by  way  of  penance  to 
give  up  what  is,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  your 
best  means  of  livelihood,  don't  you  write 
yourself  down  even  more  an  ass  than  a  sin- 
ner? "Would  not  Madge  rather  wait  than 
marry  a  poor,  stay-at-home  farmer  ?  You'll 
make  a  very  poor  farmer.  I  should  think, 
by  a  little  waiting,  you  might  in  this  case 
eat  your  cake  and  have  it  too." 

"But  that  is  not  all — "  began  Garth,  and 
broke  off  feverishly. 

"  Is  it  on  your  own  account  that  you  are 
in  haste?" 

Garth  got  to  his  feet,  and  stood,  with 
suppressed  excitement,  beside  the  table. 
"Yes,"  he  said.  "I'm  not  safe  till  she's 
my  wife.  I  must  be  chained  down  and 
locked  in." 

"  When  you  were  a  boy —  Here,  do  you 
remember  this?"  asked  Mr.  LFrinson,  open- 
ing a  drawer  of  the  table  and  taking  there- 
from an  ancient  birchen  rod,  which  he 
switched  through  the  air  once  or  twice,  and 
then  handed  to  his  son.  "  When  you  were 
a  boy,  you  once  volunteered  to  chain  down 
and  lock  in  yourself.  Now,  it  seems,  you 
need  a  wife  to  do  it  for  you." 

Garth  took  the  rod  and  examined  it,  as 
though  it  were  some  great  natural  curiosity, 
turning  it  over  and  about,  and  slowly  draw- 
it  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  It  recalled 
to  him  the  past  years  of  childish  passion  and 
struggle  and  conquest,  which  had  seemed  a 
fair  promise  of  greater  conquests  afterward. 
Yet  what  his  father  said  was  true:  he  was 
more  manly  then  than  now.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  a  whipping  with  a  birch  rod 
was  a  simple  and  palpable  matter,  whereas 
the  course  of  discipline  or  castigation  to  be 
enforced  in  the  present  case  was  far  from 
being  so.  There  is  an  incorrigible  distinc- 
tion, and  difference  both,  betwixt  childhood 
and  puberty.  It  sometimes  seems  as  if  a 
human  being's  enemies  multiplied  out  of  all 
proportion  to  the  development  of  his  power 
of  fighting  them.  Garth  laid  down  the  rod 
and  looked  at  his  father  gloomily. 

"  You  have  not  told  Madge  of  this  ?  She 
might  not  relish  the  profession  of  jailer. 
But  what  particular  enormity  are  you  in 
danger  of  committing  ?  " 


"  I  haven't  told  myself  what,"  returned 
Garth,  gruffly. 

"  Why,  I  always  took  you  for  a  pretty 
honest  fellow.  I  had  relied  on  you  to  help 
me  out  with  the  peroration  of  my  history. 
But  if  you  really  mean  to  betray  your  art, 
and  to  marry  a  wife  under  false  pretenses, 
without  fairly  giving  yourself  a  reason — " 

"  Father,  there  is  more  the  matter  than  I 
am  responsible  for.  Every  way  is  the  wrong 
way.  I  must  take  the  way  that  wrongs 
myself  rather  than  the  way  that  wrongs 
other  people.  There's  no  help ;  and  I  can't 
laugh  about  it." 

"No;  the  best  help  one  man  can  give 
another  is  the  opportunity  to  feel  and  use 
the  strength  that  God  puts  into  him.  I  have 
always  tried  to  do  that  much  for  you,  old 
gentleman.  But  methinks  that  must  be  a 
very  ugly  knot  which  has  no  loose  end  at 
all.  Now  we  have  always  behaved  to  one 
another  like  decent  Yankee  gentlemen,  who 
prefer  letting  their  hearts  be  guessed  to  turn- 
ing them  inside  out  at  once.  However,  once 
in  a  great  while — not  oftener,  perhaps,  than 
once  in  a  lifetime — it  is  worth  while  to  drop 
our  points  for  a  moment,  and  be  a  little  un- 
ceremonious. Old  boy,  I  used  to  tell  your 
mother — sometimes,  when  she  asked  me  very 
hard — that  maybe  you  were  not  altogether  a 
bad  person.  And,  to  be  quite  candid,  I  don't 
like  to  see  you  brought  to  your  wits'  end 
(however  far  that  may  be)  without  wishing 
to  lend  you  as  many  of  rny  own  as  I  may 
happen  to  have  to  help  you  along." 

Garth's  face  changed  somewhat  for  the 
better  at  this  beginning,  and  his  father  went 
on : 

"  Well,  as  to  this  picture-business,  which 
seems  to  have  arisen  on  purpose  to  give  yon 
trouble,  though  it  may  not  turn  out  so  badly 
— the  only  strictly  honorable  and  healthy 
course  seems  to  be  to  have  your  own  way 
with  it,  come  what  will.  And  the  first  con- 
sequence would  be  to  delay  your  marriage. 
I  don't  take  into  consideration  any  possible 
Providential  interference,  because  that  would 
be  unpractical.  Your  marriage  would  be 
delayed,  your  uncle  no  doubt  disappointed, 
and  Madge  hurt  and  perhaps  offended,  the 
more  because  she  knows  it  was  in  your 
power  to  fulfill  your  engagement,  and  would 


1TO 


GARTH. 


not  be  likely  to  appreciate  at  their  full  value 
your  reasons  for  not  doing  so.  Still,  so  far 
as  that  goes,  and  in  spite  of  appearances,  you 
would  have  done  right  and  not  wrong  both 
to  yourself  and  others.  And  you  would 
have  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  paint 
on." 

"  Yes,  father ;  but  that  is  only  the  begin- 
ning." 

Mr.  Urrnson  here  took  his  penknife  from 
the  tray  of  the  inkstand  and  began  to  whit- 
tle, in  default  of  a  better  subject,  the  shaft 
of  a  quill  pen.  He  had  a  way  (said  to  be  a 
trait  of  the  Urmson  race)  of  fixing  his  eyes 
steadfastly  upon  those  of  the  person  to  whom 
he  was  speaking.  Some  people  liked  this 
sometimes ;  others  did  not ;  but  few,  per- 
haps, found  it  pleasant  at  all  times.  And 
Mr.  Urmson,  at  the  present  juncture,  antici- 
pated having  to  touch  upon  delicate  matters, 
and  provided  this  means  of  keeping  his  eyes 
averted,  and  thus  relieving,  so  far  as  might 
be,  the  listener's  embarrassment. 

"If  I  were  some  fathers,"  said  he,  "I 
might  tell  you  that  a  good  end  cannot  ex- 
cuse a  wrong  act;  or,  if  I  were  some  others, 
that  you  were  a  fool  to  risk  your  happiness 
for  a  shadow,  and  still  more  to  abandon  your 
profession  for  having  once  disgraced  it ;  and 
I  might  say  all  this  as  though  it  were  an 
original  discovery  of  my  own.  But  since  I 
left  the  birch  rod  in  your  keeping  when  you 
were  a  boy,  I  sha'n't  assume  the  responsibil- 
ity of  this  sort  of  metaphysical  birching  now. 
But  as  an  outsider,  who  may  as  such  have 
his  faculties  of  perception  and  reflection  in 
better  working  order  than  yours  can  be,  I'll 
ask  you  a  few  leading  questions.  You 
needn't  answer  them  to  me,  but  you  will  to 
yourself ;  and  so  I  may  help  you  indirectly 
to  get  some  light  thrown  on  this  difficulty. 
You  were  in  Europe  a  long  time ;  Madge  is 
a  beauty,  but  beauty  does  not  wear  so  well 
through  absence  as  some  other  qualities ;  it 
pays,  in  that  way,  for  being  so  powerful  at 
close  quarters;  and  perhaps  your  absence, 
in  spite  of  all  you  could  do,  taught  you  as 
much." 

Garth  gave  a  great  sigh,  but,  before  he 
could  say  anything,  Mr.  Urmson,  smoothly 
paring  off  a  long  white  strip  from  his  quill, 
continued  : 


"In  that  case,  I  venture  to  take  it  for 
granted  you  would  feel  the  more  bound  to 
keep  your  word  to  her ;  and  you  would  nat- 
urally, from  a  very  proper  feeling  of  self-re- 
proach, and  also,  perhaps,  from  a  prudent 
distrust  of  your  own  strength,  wish  to  keep 
it  as  soon  as  possible ;  and  so  it  would  be 
harder  to  forego  the  means  your  uncle  offers 
you :  and  wrong  would  look  uncommonly 
like  a  higher  sort  of  right." 

"  You  are  making  this  too  easy  for  me ; 
I  ought  to  say  it  myself,"  interposed  the 
culprit,  with  heaving  and  uneven  utter- 
ance. But  Mr.  Crmson  shook  his  head  and 
smiled. 

"  N"o ;  every  man  to  what  he  can  do  best. 
These  things  should  be  said,  because,  once  a 
trouble  is  reduced  to  words,  it  is  reduced  to 
its  least  harmful  terms  too ;  and  I  say  them, 
because  I  have  a  much  readier  gift  of  the  gab 
than  you,  and  don't  wish  to  sit  here  till 
breakfast-time  seeing  you  stumble  where  I 
can  run.  As  to  making  it  easy  for  you, 
you'll  find  it  hard  enough,  I  doubt,  to  satisfy 
your  tenderest  conscience  before  you  are 
quit  of  it.  I  can  see  nothing  easy  about  it, 
for  my  part.  "Well,  now.  old  boy,  I  can  im- 
agine another  thing.  You  are  much  im- 
proved in  the  way  of  taste  and  judgment  and 
cultivation  generally  by  your  experience 
abroad ;  and  it  is  fair  to  infer  that  you 
learned  how  to  appreciate  finer  degrees  of 
harmony  and  form  than  you  could  before  you 
went  away.  You  may  have  met  with  an  in- 
carnation of  this  loftier  ideal,  and  felt  drawn 
to  it  by  what  seemed  the  loftier  part  of  your 
nature,  although  in  opposition  to  common- 
place morality.  You  may  have  thought  that 
in  giving  it  up  you  would  be  giving  up  all 
your  better  possibilities,  and  folding  your 
talents  in  a  napkin.  And  this  would  bring 
about  rather  a  curious  complication.  That 
ancient  friend  of  yours,  the  old  Adam, 
would  not  miss  the  opening  to  observe  that 
if  you  really  thought  you  ought  not  to  accept 
that  thousand  pounds,  here  was  something 
to  console  you  for  refusing  it.  You  would 
remain  unmarried  another  year  or  so,  but 
meanwhile  you  would  be  entitled  to  more 
freedom  of  thought  and  fancy  than  if  you 
were  a  husband  ;  and  in  a  year  or  so  what 
might  not  happen?  In  this  case,  yon  see, 


PUTTING  THE  CASE. 


171 


old  Adam,  though  no  douht  arguing  for  his 
o\vn  ends,  would  have  the  very  truth  and 
right  to  back  him  which  were  your  own  best 
weapons  against  him ;  and  in  my  opinion  you 
would  be  in  a  very  awkward  fix.  At  all 
events,  a  candid  observer  cannot  help 
admiring  the  skill  and  ingenuity  of  old 
Adam." 

"  I  seem  to  be  made  of  glass,"  muttered 
Garth,  leaning  back  against  the  window-sill, 
with  his  hands  in  his  coat-pockets,  and  gaz- 
ing at  the  pale,  keen,  gentle,  firm-hearted 
old  man. 

"You  might  have  given  me  credit  for 
seeing  through  something  less  transparent 
than  glass,"  rejoined  the  latter,  who  had  now 
whittled  away  all  the  feathery  half  of  his 
pen,  and  was  beginning  on  the  quill  proper. 
"  However,  the  fact  is  that  you  gave  me  the 
key  to  my  discoveries  by  saying,  a  few  minutes 
ago,  that  every  way  seemed  to  be  the  wrong 
way.  But  I  tell  you  again  that  I  don't  see 
any  smooth  way  out  of  this  scrape ;  you 
have  got  to  catch  it  heavily  one  way  or  an- 
other. All  I  can  do  is  to  put  your  alterna- 
tives clearly  before  you.  I  have  got  you 
now  so  that  you  can  neither  marry  without 
dishonoring  your  art,  nor  forbear  to  marry 
without  seeming  to  court  a  dishonorable  pas- 
sion, which,  nevertheless,  seems  to  be  your 
only  opening  to  a  higher  life.  And  I  don't 
see  any  present  use  in  going  farther,  old  gen- 
tleman. Only,  I  hope  it  may  comfort  you  a 
little  to  remember  that  I  have  been  with 
you,  at  any  rate,  so  far." 

"  I  begin  to  know  you  at  last — to  know 
I  know  you,  rather." 

"And  after  a  fellow  has  done  what  he 
can,  Providence  is  not  a  bad  thing  as  a 
background.  Meanwhile  we  must  go  to 
bed." 

"I  remember  when  mother  died  you 
met  me  before  I  knew  about  it,  and  talked 
quietly  and  cheerfully  for  half  an  hour  until 
the  others  came  in ;  and  afterward  I  thought 
how  plucky  you  had  been,  and  I  was 
ashamed  to  give  in.  It's  the  same  now. 
Most  men  are  brave  enough  if  they  are  so 


for  themselves ;  but  you  can  help  other  peo- 
ple to  be  brave." 

Mr.  Urmson  stood  up  in  his  long  monas- 
tic gown  and  yawned.  "  Did  you  find  Niko- 
mis  good  company  ? "  he  asked. 

"  She  said  some  strange  things.  Is  she 
a  daughter  of  the  sachem,  father?  and  does 
she  mean  to  do  us  good  or  evil?  She  is  a 
witch,  I  know." 

"  Well,  I  have  found  her  a  very  valuable 
acquaintance.  She  knows  things  I  would 
be  glad  to  know.  I  shall  think  just  as  high- 
ly of  her  whether  as  friend  or  enemy.  The 
worst  thing  I  ever  knew  her  to  do  was  let- 
ting you  share  her  whiskey-bottle.  You 
have  not  been  quite  in  your  right  mind,  old 
gentleman." 

"It  is  not  that,"  said  Garth,  putting  his 
hand  to  his  head.  "  1  have  been  cold  and 
hot  and  topsy-turvy  ever  since  my  nap  in 
the  woods.  Maybe  I'm  in  for  a  fever." 

His  father  felt  the  shaggy  young  man's 
pulse  with  his  pale,  sensitive  fingers.  "  Now 
your  tongue,"  said  he.  "  Well,  it's  proper 
enough  that  your  spiritual  struggles  should 
have  their  projection  in  the  body — if  that 
will  be  of  any  comfort  to  you.  You  are  not 
in  a  very  desirable  condition,  certainly  ;  and, 
if  you  have  a  fever  at  all,  you  may  make  up 
your  mind  for  a  pretty  severe  one.  How- 
ever, you  shall  have  nurses  enough,  and 
homoeopathic  medicines." 

"  Is  nothing  the  matter  with  you,  your- 
self? "  demanded  Garth,  turning  about  and 
facing  his  father  at  the  door.  "  Everybody 
has  been  saying  lately  that  you  were  looking 
ill ;  and  Kikomis  said — " 

"  What  ?  her  opinion  is  always  worth 
hearing." 

"  She  said  you  wouldn't  live  another 
year,"  said  Garth,  intending  to  speak  it  light- 
ly, but  ending  with  ignominious  solemnity. 

Mr.  Urmson  laughed  in  his  quiet,  inward 
way.  "  After  all,  I  see,  ISTikomis  is  less  than 
omniscient.  I  have  not  speculated  as  to  the 
day  of  my  departure,  but  I  hope  to  live  as  long 
as  is  good  for  me,  and  to  die  to  some  good  pur- 
pose. Good-night,  nay  good  old  reprobate !  " 


BOOK  VII. 
DISCORD  AND  HARMONY. 


CHAPTER  L. 

CTJTHBEET. 

HAD  he  been  essentially  a  practical  man, 
it  is  not  likely  that  Garth  would  have  got 
much  solid  encouragement  out  of  this  inter- 
view with  his  father.  Ostensibly,  indeed, 
there  might  rather  have  seemed  to  be  reason 
for  greater  dejection  than  before.  Instead 
of  making  light  of  his  difficulties,  or  suggest- 
ing a  feasible  way  out  of  them,  Mr.  Urmson 
had  deliberately  counted  them  up  and  set 
them  in  order,  denying  its  full  weight  to 
none,  and  sparing  not  to  admit  the  multi- 
plied menace  of  all  combined. 

Nevertheless,  and  despite  his  increasing 
bodily  discomfort,  Garth,  ere  he  fell  asleep, 
was  in  better  spirits  than  for  several  days 
previous.  That  the  evil  of  his  plight  had 
not  been  extenuated  was  implicitly  compli- 
mentary to  his  ability  for  getting  the  upper 
hand  of  it.  If  his  father  had  thought  him 
craven,  he  would  scarcely  have  been  at  the 
pains  of  frightening  him  ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  what  more  poignant  way  is  there  of 
suggesting  heroism  than  to  warn  of  heroic 
obstacles  ?  A  hero  delights  to  battle  against 
odds ;  and,  if  Garth  knew  himself  for  less 
than  a  hero,  he  was  yet  near  enough  akin 
thereto  to  feel  the  inspiration  of  standing  in 
a  hero's  shoes. 

To  be  understood,  moreover,  is  to  be 
twice  one's  self,  and  his  father  understood 
him  but  too  well.  To  find  that  another 
mind  than  our  own  has  analyzed  our  posi- 
tion and  entered  into  our  doubts,  is  armor 
against  danger  and  assurance  of  sanity. 
Hard  is  it  for  man  to  be  alone  in  trouble. 
He  blenches,  partly  from  ignorance,  and  in 
part  because  in  his  loneliness  he  is  not  afraid 
to  blench.  And  though  God  be  forever 
present  with  every  man,  yet  were  mankind 


created  for  mutual  sympathy,  and  through 
that  sympathy  is  it  that  God  indirectly  seeks 
to  impress  his  love  upon  us.  Garth  was 
far  from  being  an  infidel ;  but  he  had  fallen 
into  the  shadow,  and  perhaps  at  this  stage 
was  better  helped  by  a  friendly  human  hand 
than  he  could  have  been  by  dint  of  abstract 
religious  faith.  There  might  come  a  season, 
however,  to  him  as  well  as  to  others,  of  want 
whereto  no  merely  human  aid  could  minis- 
ter, and  well  would  it  be  for  him  in  that 
time  if  he  had  recognized  the  Divine  inspira- 
tion of  all  human  charity. 

Cuthbert  Urmson  heard  the  door  of  his 
son's  room  close,  and  then  he  sat  down  again 
in  the  old  chair,  leaving  the  study-door  ajar. 
The  aspect  of  cheerful  composure  which  he 
had  maintained  during  the  interview  now 
began  to  fade  out  of  his  face,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  he  looked  many  years  older.  He 
leaned  his  head  heavily  on  his  hand,  and 
his  shoulders  bent  forward.  The  lower  lids 
of  his  eyes  were  contracted,  his  lips  set  to- 
gether, and  occasionally  he  fetched  a  long 
sigh,  like  a  man  enduring  wearisome  physi- 
cal pain. 

By-and-by  he  turned  himself  to\vard 
the  table,  and  began,  mechanically  and  with 
exaggerated  accuracy,  to  put  in  order  the 
papers  and  other  things  which  lay  upon  it. 
The  scattered  parings  of  the  quill  pen  he 
brushed  slowly  together  in  a  heap  with  his 
fingers,  and  dropped  them  into  the  waste- 
paper  basket.  Then  he  closed  a  drawer 
which  was  standing  open ;  but  the  action 
reminded  him  that  he  had  taken  the  birch 
rod  out  of  it,  and  he  looked  across  to  the 
other  side  of  the  table  for  it.  It  was  not 
there.  It  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  then? 
Cuthbert  rose  and  walked  round  the  table. 
But  no ;  it  had  disappeared  entirely.  Garth 
must  have  taken  it  with  him  as  he  went  out. 
It  was  a  good  omen.  The  young  man,  in 


CUTHBEKT. 


173 


his  usual  silent  and  undemonstrative  fashion, 
had  put  himself  upon  his  honor ;  and  that 
was  so  far  significant  as  to  show,  at  all 
events,  that  he  did  not  consider  himself  to 
be  hopelessly  beneath  a  flogging.  uAnd 
the  best  of  sinners,"  thought  Cuthbert,  with 
the  faint  smile  playing  about  his  mouth, 
u  could  hardly  come  into  a  healthier  state 
of  mind  than  that!  " 

Clasping  his  hands  behind  him,  he  stood 
on  the  hearth  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
swaying  his  body  with  a  slow  motion  from 
side  to  side  and  forward  and  backward, 
after  a  fashion  peculiar  to  him  during  soli- 
tary meditation.  The  deep  stillness  of  the 
night  and  of  the  sleeping  house  seconded  the 
grave  abstraction  of  his  thought.  In  glanc- 
ing back  over  his  life  he  saw  himself,  per- 
haps, as  a  man  who  had  hoped  well,  if  not 
too  wisely,  and  had  thus  kept  a  modest  light 
of  happiness  and  serenity  burning  secure 
throughout  a  great  deal  of  unpropitious 
weather.  A  fretful,  selfish,  impatient  man 
would  hardly  have  reached  even  Cuthbert's 
moderate  age  without  stumbling  or  altogeth- 
er falling  by  the  way.  But  Cuthbert's  roots 
grasped  beneath  the  surface-loam  of  exist- 
ence, and  drew  their  essential  nourishment 
from  subterranean  springs.  He  had  taken 
a  wife  whom  few  persons  of  his  intellectual 
rank  would  have  looked  upon  as  a  fit  help- 
mate in  the  wearisome  endeavors  of  earthly 
life ;  but  he,  being  wise  as  well  as  intellect- 
ual, had  seen  her  in  a  more  searching  light 
than  that  of  the  understanding,  and  found 
in  her  all  he  needed.  In  fact,  he  had  rever- 
enced and  looked  up  to  her  from  first  to  last 
in  a  way  which  must  have  seemed  akin  to 
infatuation  to  those  whose  judgments  of 
human  worth  are  made  solely  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  brain.  Cuthbert,  how- 
ever, constantly  felt  her  superiority  to  him- 
self, and  this  perception  charmed  while  it 
humbled  him.  He  used  to  say  to  himself, 
or  to  Professor  Grindle,  who  was  a  sort  of 
masculine  other  self  to  him,  that  Martha 
was  so  much  better  than  himself  in  all  vital 
respects  as  to  be  above  the  reach  of  envy, 
which  could  not  have  been  the  case  had  she 
condescended  to  meet  him  on  his  own  ground. 
He  would  admit  her  inferiority  on  one  point 
only — the  power,  namely,  of  being  as  much 


delighted  with  him  as  he  .was  with  her;  but 
for  this  failure  there  was  the  all-sufficient 
excuse  that  he  was  incomparably  the  less 
delightful  person  of  the  two.  Professor 
Grindle  had  never  attempted  to  impugn  his 
friend's  position  in  this  matter;  but  the 
latter  never  knew  that  one  reason,  at  least, 
of  this  forbearance  lay  in  the  fact  that  the 
learned,  brusque,  kindly  man  of  classes  had 
himself  been  in  love  with  Martha,  at  the 
time  when  Cuthbert  stepped  between  from 
foreign  parts  and  married  her. 

Martha's  unexpected  death  had  been  pre- 
cisely the  deadliest  thrust  that  her  husband's 
philosophy  could  have  met  with.  In  a  sense 
he  had  not  survived  it.  A  great  part  of  him 
had  died  with  her.  She  had  left  him  at  the 
time  when  he  was  most  dependent  upon  her 
comforting  companionship.  AVhile  she  lived 
he  had  been  able  to  look  upon  the  gradual 
decay  of  his  worldly  affairs  with  a  compos- 
ure that  almost  amounted  to  amusement; 
for  he  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  knowing  that 
the  ill  luck  which  so  beset  him  was  not  of 
his  own  making,  and  meanwhile  he  possessed 
the  inexhaustible  consolation  and  refresh- 
ment of  a  beloved  and  loving  wife,  whose 
value  each  fresh  slight  of  Fortune  rendered 
but  the  more  conspicuous.  As  year  by  year 
Golightley's  speculative  sestheticism  ate  up 
the  family  fortune,  until  at  length  there  re- 
mained nothing  except  the  annual  produce 
of  the  farm  and  the  earnings  of  Cuthbert's 
pen,  he  smiled  his  whimsical  smile,  and  held 
himself  wealthy  in  the  ownership  of  a  com- 
fortable dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  of 
a  wife  who  could  mend  holes,  darn  and  knit 
socks,  and  superintend  the  cooking  of  a 
wholesome  dinner.  Professor  Grindle,  to 
whose  prudent  care  Cuthbert  had  intrusted 
the  management  of  the  fifty  thousand  dollars 
of  Eve's  legacy,  had  more  than  once  coun- 
seled him,  during  some  severer  pinch  than 
usual,  to  mortgage  Urmhurst  for  at  least 
some  part  of  its  value,  since  it  was  not  to 
be  supposed  that  Eve  or  any  descendants  of 
hers  had  any  existence,  even  at  the  time 
Captain  Brian's  will  was  made,  except  in  that 
willful  old  gentleman's  imagination.  But 
at  this  Cuthbert  would  shake  his  head  grave- 
ly, and  reply  that  Nikomis  had  always  ap- 
peared to  him  a  mysterious  personage,  and 


174 


GAETH. 


that  until  her  mystery  was  entirely  cleared 
up  he  would  try  to  get  along  on  the  produce 
of  the  Urmhurst  farm  and  on  the  interest  of 
the  fifty  thousand  dollars — both  of  which 
sources  of  income  the  terms  of  the  will  had 
left  him  at  liberty  to  use.  Indeed,  it  was 
solely  through  drafts  on  the  latter  revenue 
that  Garth  had  been  enabled  to  keep  at  col- 
lege. Professor  Grindle  would  grumble  out 
something  uncomplimentary  to  the  sagacity 
of  the  old  captain,  and  sarcastically  ask  Cuth- 
bert  what  became  of  that  part  of  the  three 
thousand  or  so  dollars  of  interest  which  was 
not  included  in  Garth's  expenses;  whether 
Cuthbert  bought  cigars  and  champagne  with 
it ;  and,  if  so,  why  he  never  offered  any  to 
his  guests.  Mr.  Urmson  generally  affirmed 
that  he  spent  it  for  lottery -tickets,  or  in  Paris 
dresses  for  Mrs.  Urmson. 

"  Then  I  shall  tell  the  Danvers,"  the  pro- 
fessor would  retort,  "  that  you've  no  head  for 
business,  and  that  they'd  better  make  over 
the  agency  of  that  famous  patent  affair  to 
me." 

At  this  and  similar  threats  Cuthbert 
would  only  arch  his  eyebrow,  and  the  pro- 
fessor would  be  forced  to  console  himself 
with  the  reflection  that  the  old  captain  had, 
after  all,  done  better  than  he  had  intended, 
since,  if  the  Eve  legacy  had  not  been  set 
apart,  Golightley  would  long  ago  have  squan- 
dered the  whole  of  it.  But  neither  the  pro- 
fessor nor  anybody  else  could  prevail  upon 
Mr.  Urmson  to  regard  this  matter  in  any 
other  than  a  humorous  light — so  long  as 
Mrs.  Urmson  was  alive. 

In  Garth,  again,  a  less  securely  grounded 
faith  than  Mr.  Urmson's  might  have  seen 
much  to  be  disturbed  about.  The  boy's 
most  ostensible  traits  had  been  ruggedness, 
reserve,  and  self-will  that  could  easily  be- 
come obstinacy.  The  finer,  gentler,  nobler 
qualities  that  lay  behind  would  soon  have 
been  irrevocably  choked  off  by  any  but  the 
most  skillful  and  ingenious  treatment.  Some 
persons  —  among  them,  as  we  know,  the 
Reverend  Graeme — had  been  of  opinion  that 
Mr.  Urmson  had  grossly  neglected  his  pater- 
nal duty  in  not  imposing  his  own  will  and 
judgment  upon  his  son,  instead  ot'  leaving 
the  lad  (as  he  appeared  to  do)  entirely  to  his 
own  devices.  But,  though  Cuthbert  never 


would  defend  himself  from  this  reproach  of 
negligence,  neither  would  he  pretend  refor- 
mation. "  I  sha'n't  exactly  introduce  Garth 
to  the  devil,"  he  once  said  to  Professor 
Grindle,  whose  ideas  on  education  more  or 
less  agreed  with  his  own,  "for  that  would 
be  taking  an  unwarrantable  liberty ;  but  if 
Garth  insists  deliberately  upon  forming  the 
acquaintance,  it  would  be  taking  a  liberty 
still  more  unwarrantable  to  lock  the  door  on 
him.  He  must  do — I  won't  say  as  he  likes, 
but  as  he  chooses.  I  don't  pretend  to  be 
wiser  than  my  Creator,  and  he  saw  fit  to 
give  me  free-will.  Children  are  new  wine; 
they  must  be  let  ferment  freely,  or  they 
will  never  become  clear,  strong,  and  full-- 
flavored." 

"They  may  talk  about  desperate  gam- 
bling," remarked  Grindle,  rubbing  his  smooth 
bald  crown  and  wrinkling  his  forehead ;  "but 
what  gambler  ever  played  such  stakes  as  you, 
or  with  so  steady  a  hand  ?  To  be  sure,  the 
prize  is  worth  the  risk,  and,  as  you  say,  may 
be  unobtainable  in  any  other  way.  But — I 
hope  the  boy'll  take  to  something  soon." 

Perhaps  Garth's  entanglement  with 
Madge  had  caused  his  father  more  doubt 
and  anxiety  than  any  other  thing.  Mr. 
Urmson  mistrusted  everything  about  Madge 
except  her  beauty  and  her  intelligence.  He 
was  a  man  who,  though  rationally  opposed 
to  antipathies,  was  by  nature  prone  to  them ; 
but  reasoning  failed  to  get  the  better  of  na- 
ture in  this  instance.  The  fact  that  Mrs. 
Urmson  shared  his  unfavorable  judgment 
no  doubt  tended  to  confirm  it,  though  Cuth- 
bert always  made  a  point  of  disputing  with 
her  on  the  subject,  and  arraigning  her  for 
uncharitableness.  Martha,  who  was  charity 
itself  (tempered  with  a  wholesome  dash  of 
feminine  prejudice),  generally  yielded  a  nom- 
inal assent  to  his  arguments,  as  a  wife  should 
do ;  but,  unluckily  for  Cuthbert's  peace  of 
mind,  he  never  had  contrived  to  convince 
himself.  He  had  to  content  himself  with 
hoping  that  his  insight  was  at  fault;  or,  if 
not  so,  then  thatj  Madge,  being  bad,  might 
vouchsafe  the  redeeming  iniquity  of  break- 
ing faith  with  her  lover  at  the  last  moment. 
When  Garth  went  to  Europe  it  had  seemed 
as  if  Providence  were  about  to  promote  the 
latter  alternative ;  and  Cuthbert,  then  grop- 


CUTHBERT. 


175 


ing  in  the  fresh  shadow  of  his  wife's  death, 
had  blessed  his  son's  departure  as  a  ray  of 
light  in  the  prevailing  gloom.  But  when 
Garth  came  back,  though  it  was  soon  mani- 
fest to  his  father  that  his  devotion  to  Madge 
was  no  longer  so  blind  and  ardent  as  before, 
she,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  perversely 
determined  on  being  more  inviolably  con: 
stant  than  ever.  In  fact,  it  was  impossible  to 
doubt  her  sincerity.  A  woman  who  would 
remain  faithful  to  a  man  for  years  without 
being  married  to  him,  would  hardly  fail  to 
be  a  model  of  wifely  faith  when  they  were 
united.  "I  don't  know,"  sighed  Cuthbert 
to  himself;  "perhaps  I  was  wrong,  and  she 
will  make  Garth  the  best  wife  he  could  have. 
If  my  Cotton  Martha  were  here,  she  could 
mend  my  dull  wits.  The  boy  seems  to  care 
for  no  one  else,  unless  that  portrait  sketch 
he  showed  me  is  a  sign  of  something." 

The  first  months  of  Garth's  return  had 
passed  uneventfully  away,  and  matters 
seemed  inclined  to  adjust  themselves  with 
stupid,  inert  impunity ;  there  was  to  be  no 
tension,  no  crisis,  no  catastrophe,  good  or 
bad.  There  was  a  tameness  in  the  prospect 
that  might  have  dissatisfied  Cuthbert  some 
six  years  previous,  but  now  he  acquiesced 
in  it  with  a  corresponding  tameness  and 
inertia.  If  the  grim,  sinister  history  of  two 
centuries  were  destined  to  die  away  in  an 
uneventful  country  idyl,  with  no  glimpse  of 
struggle  and  temptation,  no  flashing  out  of 
poetic  justice  and  retribution,  why  should 
not  a  quiet,  elderly  gentleman,  whose  main 
object  in  life  ought  to  be  to  get  out  of  it  as 
quietly  and  decently  as  possible,  rejoice  and 
thank  his  stars  thereat  ?  Let  Garth,  an  able 
but  not  as  yet  transcendent  artist,  marry 
his  pretty  and  clever  and  worldly-wise  wife, 
and  gradually  work  his  way  to  a  respectable, 
if  not  foremost,  place  among  his  fellows. 
Let  Golightley  wisely  invest  and  temper- 
ately spend  his  newly-acquired  fortune,  pay- 
ing his  debts  or  not  as  he  thought  fit,  for 
Urmlmrst  could  get  along  with  the  nothing 
it  had  very  comfortably.  Let  the  mystery 
which  had  brooded  beside  Captain  Brian's 
death-bed,  and  overshadowed  the  relation 
of  his  descendants  to  each  other,  remain 
unsolved  forever.  Let  Nikomis  pass  away 
unshriven,  and  Eve's  posterity  prove  a 


dream,  and  Urmlmrst  stand  firm  upon  its 
blood-cemented  foundations.  In  due  course 
let  the  legacy  revert  to  Garth,  and  enable 
him  to  take  his  wife  on  a  pleasure-trip  to 
Europe,  and  by  that  time,  surely,  Cuthbert 
might  hope  that  for  himself  the  long,  secret, 
incurable  physical  anguisli  of  life  would  be 
over,  and  gentle  Cotton  Martha  visibly  at 
his  side  once  more.  Let  these  things  be. 
He  had  hoped  much,  and  hope,  even  if  it  be 
delusive,  has  a  kind  of  unearthly  wisdom  in 
it,  and  brings  a  kind  of  happiness  of  which 
any  realization  must  fall  short.  Surely, 
now,  at  his  journey's  end,  he  might  be  con- 
tent without  earthly  realizations.  More- 
over, crippled  as  he  was  with  age  and  dis- 
ease and  poverty,  what  front  could  he  oppose 
to  events  of  moment,  even  if  they  came  ?  It 
was  better  as  it  was. 

Nevertheless,  as  the  old  man  stood  to- 
night, on  the  ash-strewed  hearth,  with  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  and  mused  upon 
the  developments  of  the  last  few  weeks,  he 
could  not  but  admit  that,  whether  he  had 
strength  to  meet  it  or  not,  the  crisis  was  at 
hand,  and  wore  a  threatening  aspect.  He 
knew  what  Golightley  had  done,  he  under- 
stood Madge's  position,  he  saw  Garth's  dan- 
ger, he  divined  Selwyn's  mission.  He  per- 
ceived, likewise — what  they  could  not — their 
respective  relations  one  to  another,  and 
knew,  withal,  that  they  knew  not  of  his 
knowledge,  nor  suspected  it.  Yet  there 
were  certain  points  which  still  remained 
obscure  to  him ;  and  others,  perhaps,  there 
were  which  came  not  near  enough  his  range 
of  vision  even  to  be  speculated  about. 
However,  the  general  winding-up  could  not 
be  far  distant,  when  all  things  should  be 
made  clear.  Cuthbert  felt  that  he  had  a 
part  to  play  in  what  was  to  come,  and  one 
rather  fitted  for  a  man  in  the  prime  of  his 
years  and  powers  than  for  him,  whose  flesh 
was  weak,  and  whose  spirit,  however  will- 
ing, might  well  partake  of  the  frailty  of  his 
bodily  condition.  Nevertheless,  as  he  stood 
there  solitary  and  unsupported,  and  thought 
of  what  was  to  come,  the  blood  entered  his 
face  and  showed  faintly  through  his  cheeks. 
He  drew  his  feet  together,  and  stood  a  little 
taller  and  more  erect.  He  had  never  been 
burdened  with  gelf-esteem,  and  now  for  the 


176 


GAETII. 


first  time  did  he  fairly  realize  that  he,  too, 
might  be  of  imoortance  in  the  old  Urmson 
romance.  Yes,  they  could  not  do  without 
him  ;  and  with  the  conviction  came  the  gal- 
lant flush  of  courage  and  resolution  which 
assured  him  that  he  would  not  be  found 
wanting. 

A  muffled  footfall  on  the  staircase  in- 
formed him  that  old  Nikomis,  who  always 
wore  moccasins,  in  spite  of  the  civilizing 
influences  of  her  latter  years,  was  coming 
up  to  bed.  The  hour-glass  had  just  run  out ; 
he  turned  it,  and  then  went  forward  to  the 
door,  where  the  Indian  met  him.  • 

"  Garth  looked  feverish,"  said  he  ;  "  will 
he  be  laid  up  ?  " 

"  Ugh !  do  him  good !  He  too  much 
well ;  never  been  sick  ;  fever  one  month — 
two  month — do  him  good.  You  better  go 
to  bed,"  she  added,  raising  her  candle  and 
scrutinizing  Cuthbert's  face ;  "  you  more 
account  than  Garth." 

"  We  must  take  care  of  him,  though," 
answered  he,  with  a  smile.  "  By-the-way, 
Nikomis,  is  it  certain  that  Mr.  Kineo  is 
coming  here  ? " 

"  So  his  letter  say,"  replied  she,  with  an 
affectation  of  indifference. 

"  And  Madge  knows  of  it,  I  suppose — 
yes,  for  she  must  have  read  you  the  letter. 
So  he  has  made  money  ?  Does  he  mean  to 
settle  here  ? " 

"  Nikomis  know  nothing,"  said  the  old 
woman,  looking  glum.  "  He  stay — he  go 
— me  know  nothing.  Caw !  me  poor  old 
squaw." 

"  But  he  is  coming  back  to  see  you,  Ni- 
komis— not  for  any  other  reason.  If  he  were 
poor,  you  might  have  suspected  his  motives. 
I'm  glad  he  has  prospered.  He  must  live  at 
Urmhurst  while  he  is  here — that  is,  if  he 
doesn't  object.  We'll  put  him  in  Eve's 
room,  and  put  Mr.  Golightley  in  Garth's  old 
place.  Will  that  be  agreeable  to  yon  ?  " 

Cuthbert  spoke  with  a  smile,  yet  in  a 
tone  that  seemed  to  invite  Nikomis  to  de- 
clare her  mind  to  him.  Outwardly  con- 
sidered, the  proposal  he  had  made  was 
rather  a  singular  one ;  for  Sam  Kineo,  so 
far  as  TJrmsworth  had  had  knowledge  of 
him,  was  not  exactly  the  kind  of  person 
likely  to  be  sought  after  in  drawing-rooms. 


It  was  fair  to  suppose,  however,  that  his 
experience  in  the  world  had  rubbed  smooth 
his  original  savagery,  especially  since  he 
had  succeeded  in  life  from  a  money  point 
of  view.  But  Cuthbert,  though  doubtless 
hoping  that  such  might  be  the  case,  would 
not  have  been  apt  to  base  his  invitation 
thereon.  During  the  years  which  had 
elapsed  since  Sam's  first  departure  from 
Urmsworth,  Mr.  Urmson  had  grown  to  be 
more  and  more  of  opinion  that  the  young 
man's  interests  were  intimately  connected 
with  those  of  the  Urmson  family.  He  had 
not  attempted  to  conceal  this  opinion  from 
Nikomis,  albeit  conveying  his  intimations  in 
such  a  manner  that,  if  she  were  unprepared 
to  meet  them  half-way,  they  would  appear 
unintelligible.  Nikomis,  on  her  side,  had 
been  as  discreet  as  only  an  Indian,  perhaps, 
can  be.  Not  that  Indians  have  more  intel- 
lect than  white  people :  it  is  tolerably  cer- 
tain that  they  have  not  nearly  so  much ;  but 
their  instinctive  prejudice  in  favor  of  keep- 
ing their  own  counsel  often  serves  them  in 
as  good  stead.  Nikomis  admitted  little  and 
denied  less ;  she  appeared  to  know  a  great 
deal,  yet  could  not  be  proved  to  kno\v  any- 
thing. Animals  do  things,  and  perhaps 
think  about  doing  them,  but  they  are  not 
often  overheard  talking  about  their  doings. 
Indians — and  Nikomis  as  an  Indian — proba- 
bly more  nearly  resemble  animals  in  this  re- 
spect than  do  their  white  brethren.  They 
have  their  powwows,  it  is  true;  but  they 
are  incitements  to  action  rather  than  intel- 
lectual deliberations. 

On  the  present  occasion  the  swarthy 
old  woman  did  not  immediately  reply,  but 
gleamed  at  Mr.  Urmson  out  of  her  narrow, 
black  eye-slits  as  pungently  as  if  she  were 
expecting  a  reply  from  him.  "  Sam  do  very 
well,"  she  said,  gruffly,  at  length  ;  "  he  rich 
— he  buy  house,  if  he  want.  What  Sam  do 
here — um  ?  " 

"  Nobody  knows  so  well  as  you  what  he 
wants,  or  where  he  should  go  ;  I  must  leave 
it  entirely  to  you,  Madame  Nikomis.  If  you 
bring  him  here,  he  shall  be  welcome.  Well. 
I  ought  to  be  getting  sleepy.  Good-night." 

After  she  had  creaked  on  up  the  garret- 
stairs,  Cuthbert  stepped  across  to  Garth's 
room  and  looked  in  upon  him.  He  was 


FOUR  TEMPERS  LOST. 


177 


tossing  and  muttering  in  his  sleep,  his  face 
hot,  his  lips  dry,  his  hair  in  a  black  tangle. 
His  father  turned  the  pillow  for  him,  and 
smoothed  out  the  twisted  sheets  and  blanket. 
In  doing  so  he  caught  sight  of  a  piece  of 
line  bluish  gauze,  of  silken  lustre,  which  ap- 
peared to  be  tied  about  the  fevered  man's 
throat.  He  attempted  to  take  it  off,  but, 
finding  it  impossible  without  risk  of  awak- 
ening the  sleeper,  he  presently  withdrew  to 
his  own  chamber. 


CHAPTER   LI. 

FOUR    TEMPERS     LOST. 

THE  following  morning  was  the  coldest 
of  the  season  thus  far ;  there  had  been  a 
great  change  since  yesterday.  Long,  shaded 
folds  of  gray  cloud  lay  along  and  across  the 
heavens ;  a  chilling,  business-like  wind  was 
abroad,  and  had  already  done  miracles  in 
the  way  of  stripping  the  forest  of  the  rem- 
nants of  its  gaudy  finery.  Mrs.  Tenterden, 
who,  in  consideration,  of  her  hard  jolting  in 
the  hay-rigging  and  over-indulgence  in  ome- 
let, had  felt  herself  entitled  to  exceptional 
luxury,  took  a  late  breakfast  in  bed ;  and 
afterward,  wrapping  herself  in  a  stately 
neglige,  reclined  on  the  sofa,  while  Elinor 
paced  up  and  down  the  room  with  her 
hands  behind  her,  bending  her  brows  at  the 
carpet,  and  replying  somewhat  coldly  to  the 
elder  lady's  questions  and  remarks. 

"•Well,"  exclaimed  the  latter,  laughing 
comfortably,  without  interruption  to  her 
speech,  "  all  I  have  to  say  is,  I  never  thought 
anything  could  make  up  for  that  knocking 
about  I  got  yesterday ;  but  if  you're  really 
engaged  to  Golightley,  Nellie,  I  declare  you 
might  have  knocked  me  about  for  a  week 
without  my  saying  a  word.  Of  course,  I 
knew  it  must  be ;  I  could  see  well  enough 
that  you  cared  for  him,  in  spite  of  all  your 
to-do  about  it.  Well,  now,  I  suppose  you'll 
be  so  taken  up  with  each  other  I  sha'n't  see 
anything  of  either  of  you.  I  shall  be  quite 
de  trop,  1  suspect." 

"You  shouldn't  say  that,  mother,"  said 
Elinor,  pausing  in  her  walk  to  fix  her  strange, 
unequal  eyes  upon  Mrs.  Tenterden's  good- 
12 


humored  countenance.  "  If  I  become  his 
wife,  it  will  certainly  not  be  with  any 
thought  of  getting  rid  of  you." 

Here  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and 
Madge  came  in,  with  a  soft,  blooming  face 
and  a  pretty  white  apron.  She  had  already 
that  morning  served  Mrs.  Tenterden  with 
her  breakfast,  and  spoken  sympathizingly 
about  her  indisposition,  and  now  she  was 
bound  on  a  new  errand  of  mercy. 

"If  you  would  let  mo  comb  and  brush 
your  hair  for  you,  dear  Aunt  Mildred,  I 
should  be  so  glad!  You  have  such  lovely 
hair !  And  perhaps  it  might  make  your  poor 
head  feel  a  little  easier.  May  I  ?  " 

Mrs.  Tenterden's  head  felt  perfectly  well, 
but  she  was  ready  to  believe  otherwise  for 
Madge's  sake.  "  Bless  your  heart,  my  dear, 
you  may  do  just  as  you  like !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, pleased  and  flattered.  "  How  kind 
you  all  are  to  a  poor  old  woman,  to  be  sure ! 
Mercy !  who  can  that  be  ? — Why,  Nellie,  did 
you  expect —  I  declare,  I  believe  it  is  Go- 
lightley, sure  enough  I  Hark! — Quick,  Mag- 
gie, that  cap  on  the  dressing-table  ;  oh,  and 
my  slippers — .dear  me!  where  are  they? 
— Did  I  leave  them  in  your  room,  Nellie  ?  " 

"  You'll  have  to  do  without  them  now, 
at  any  rate,"  returned  Elinor,  a  mischievous 
smile  brightening  through  the  midst  of  her 
seriousness.  "  Curl  up  your  feet  under 
your  peignoir.  There — but  remember,  you 
mustn't  move !  " 

Golightley  knocked  and  entered,  bending 
at  once  beneath  the  weight  of  his  news,  and 
of  the  delicate  compliment  of  being  admitted 
to  a  lady's  bedchamber  levee.  He  was  grave, 
sympathetic,  subdued,  and  fascinatingly  at 
his  ease.  He  seated  himself  on  a  low  cricket 
beside  the  sofa,  and,  taking  Mildred's  hand 
between  his  own,  patted  and  caressed  it 
while  he  talked  to  the  younger  ladies  and 
to  her. 

"  How  delightful  you  all  look  here !  By 
George !  what  a  lucky  fellow  I  am  to  know 
three  such  women  all  in  a  bunch  !  I'd  like 
to  know  who  wouldn't  envy  me  now — Garth, 
or  anybody  else.  Oh,  by-the-by,  so  sad 
about  dear  old  Garth,  isn't  it  ?  You  know,  he 
was  out  late  last  night,  looking  after  a  letter 
or  something,  and  not  finding  it,  and  getting 
wet  and  worried  and  falling  asleep  in-  the 


178 


GARTH. 


•woods,  and  one  thing  and  another,  and  now 
the  poor  boy's  come  home  with  a  bad  fever, 
ajid  delirious,  and  so  on  and  so  on,  and  I 
told  Cuthbert,  Mildred,  that  I  knew  you'd 
like  to  send  him  up  some  of  your  medicine. 
— There,  now,  Margaret,  dear  child,  don't  you 
be  frightened.  I've  told  you  the  worst  all 
at  once,  because  I  thought  that  was  the  best 
way.  Don't  be  frightened,  because  he's  go- 
ing to  get  well  again,  you  know,  and  be  bet- 
ter than  ever." 

"Good  gracious  alive!  "  cried  kind  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  sitting  up  in  genuine  concern,  un- 
conscious that  her  bare  white  feet  were  visible 
below  the  hem  of  her  morning-gown.  "  Why, 
the  poor  young  man !  I  declare,  I'm  so  sorry 
for  him !  He  ought  to  have  had  aconite  the 
first  thing.  What  sort  of  a  fever  is  it,  Go- 
lightley?" 

"Is  it  contagious?"  demanded  Madge, 
at  the  same  moment,  rousing  herself  from  a 
brief  trance  or  fit  of  abstraction  caused  by 
the  ill  news. 

"  Well,  we  hardly  know  what  it  is  yet ; 
it  may  turn  out  contagious,  or  it  may  not.  I 
wouldn't  advise  any  of  yon  dear  people  to 
go  near,  anyway ;  it  wouldn't  do  to  have  you 
taken  down  too,  Margaret — delirium  and  all 
— no,  no !  We  must  keep  your  little  head 
straight,  whatever  happens.  But  as  for  Cuth- 
bert and  me  and  Nikomis,  we're  case-hard- 
ened old  veterans,  and  we  aren't  afraid  of  it. 
But  I  thought  I'd  better  tell  you,  you  know, 
for  fear  it  might  leak  out  in  some  other  way 
and  make  you  anxious." 

Golightley  addressed  himself  to  the  com- 
pany generally,  but  Madge  had  an  impres- 
sion that  he  was  talking  at  her  and  covertly 
watching  her.  These  two  had  conversed 
with  somewhat  unusual  frankness — to  use 
an  agreeable  word — the  day  before,  but  had 
not  prolonged  their  interview  far  enough  to 
arrive  at  any  distinct  and  practical  basis  of 
action.  Consequently  they  were  still  a  little 
wary  of  each  other,  and  prepared  to  make 
the  best  of  whatever  chance  advantage.  Go- 
lightley, perhaps,  had  not  come  out  of  the 
late  encounter  with  quite  his  usual  sense  of 
superiority ;  for  Madge,  while  displaying  an 
alarming  acuteness  of  apprehension  as  to  his 
own  weak  places,  had  given  him  no  corre- 
sponding purchase  against  herself — none,  at 


least,  that  he  could  use  without  more  dis- 
concerting himself  than  her.  But  he  was 
not  yet  ready  to  admit  that  no  such  handle 
was  discoverable  ;  and  Madge,  recognizing 
this,  was  old  enough  to  know  the  wisdom  of 
avoiding  even  the  appearance  of  evil. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  she ;  "  but  he 
— belongs  to  me,  Uncle  Golightley,  and  I 
must  be  with  him,  however  it  is."  There 
was  a  slight  tremulous  cadence  in  her  tone 
which  touched  the  heart — her  own,  maybe, 
as  well  as  others.  Women  often  beguile 
themselves  better  than  any  one  can  do  it  for 
them. 

"  No,  no,  Maggie  dear !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  getting  up  with  energy.  "  What 
do  you  know  about  nursing,  and  what  would 
young  Mr.  Garth  say  to  us  if  we  allowed  you 
to  catch  the  disease  from  him  ?  Just  let  me 
go  over  there ;  I  know  how  to  manage,  and 
nothing  can  hurt  me.  The  idea  of  nobody 
but  that  Indian  creature  to  take  care  of 
him  !  I  declare  it  is  perfectly  dreadful !  " 

Here  Mrs.  Tenterden  interrupted  herself 
with  a  small  scream,  at  the  same  time  bun- 
dling back  on  the  sofa.  She  had  set  her  heel 
upon  a  crooked  hairpin,  which  had  reminded 
her  of  her  unshod  and  exposed  condition, 
and  for  the  moment  put  all  her  Good-Sa- 
maritanism  out  of  her  head.  But  the  mishap 
served  its  purpose  in  inducing  a  less  flurried 
and  headlong  view  of  what  should  be  done. 
Golightley  was  presently  sent  back  to  Urm- 
hurst  with  an  homoeopathic  medicine-chest 
under  his  arm,  and  a  message  to  the  effect 
that  Mrs.  Tenterden  would  follow  so  soon  as 
the  inertia  of  earthly  conditions  could  be 
overcome. 

Madge  waited  until  Golightley  had  passed 
by  the  windows  on  his  way  homeward,  and 
then  she  retired  to  her  own  room,  arid  began 
mechanically  to  put  on  her  boots  and  other- 
wise array  herself  as  for  a  walk.  But  before 
her  preparations  were  half  completed — in 
the  act  of  tying  on  her  hat  before  the  look- 
ing-glass—  she  lapsed  for  the  second  time 
into  a  trance,  and  was  so  found  some  time 
afterward  by  her  mother,  who  came  with 
the  information  that  Mrs.  Tenterden  was 
ready  to  set  out  for  Urmhurst. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  doing,  Maggie  girl, 
and  she  waiting,  and  Garth  down  with  the 


FOUR  TEMPERS  LOST. 


179 


typhus?"  expostulated  Mrs.  Danver,  in  a 
complaining  monotone.  "Sitting  half-dressed 
and  staring  into  a  looking-glass  —  it's  real 
unthinking." 

Madge  caught  her  mother's  eye  in  the 
mirror  without  turning  round,  nnd  after  a 
moment  deliberately  untied  her  hat  and  laid 
it  down  on  the  tahle. 

"What  ails  the  child?  "  cried  Mrs.  Dan- 
ver, heightening  her  tone.  "  I  guecs  Mrs. 
Tenterden  isn't  going  to  be  sitting  waiting 
all  day  with  her  things  on,  either.  Do,  now, 
Maggie,  have  done  and  come  along !  " 

Madge  was  accustomed  to  treat  her 
mother  without  much  ceremony  when  they 
were  in  private ;  but  she  had  never  yet  al- 
lowed herself  to  forget  the  consideration 
due  to  persons  of  more  importance.  Now, 
however,  she  said  curtly,  "  I'm  not  going 
with  Mrs.  Tenterden." 

"Well,  I  should  think  you'd  had  more 
manners,  Maggie ;  let  be  what  Garth  '11  say 
when  he  comes  to  and  hears  you've  not  been 
near  him.  Of  course  there's  nobody  expects 
you  to  go  in  his  room  and  catch  the  con- 
tagion, child.  Goodness  knows  there's  plen- 
ty to  do,  this  side  of  running  risks  ;  but 
seems  to  me,  if  he  was  my  young  man,  I 
wouldn't  risk  strangers  being  round  and  me 
staying  home  like  I  didn't  care  for  him  :  let 
be  Garth's  not  the  kind  that  seems  over- 
eager  for  marrying,  either." 

"  Is  Miss  Golightley  going  over  ?  "  asked 
Madge,  after  a  pause. 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  what  she  should  be 
doing  there,  that  I  must  say !  "  returned 
Mrs.  Danver,  tartly.  "Maybe  she  will, 
though,'  if  you  don't,  just  to  bear  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden company,  if  no  more." 

"  I  shaVt  go,"  said  the  beautiful  young 
woman,  finally,  turning  and  facing  her 
mother  with  a  hard  look.  "I  don't  like  his 
being  sick  in  this  way,  and  delirious,  just  as 
if  he  were  some  old  woman.  It  isn't  manly. 
Men  such  as  I  care  about  are  never  laid  up 
in  bed  with  fevers,  having  medicines  given 
them,  and  not  able  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves. I  don't  like  Garth  for  it,  and  I  never 
shall  like  him  so  well  again,  even  if  he  gets 
well.  Garth  sick  with  a  fever!  Pah!  I 
wouldn't  have  believed  it." 

These  sentences  were  uttered  in  Madge's 


customary  soft  tone,  or,  if  there  was  a  me- 
tallic ring  in  them,  it  was  very  subdued. 
Nevertheless,  the  half-resentful  contempt 
which  they  expressed  was  conveyed  like- 
wise by  a  certain  subtile  inflection  of  the 
voice :  there  could  be  no  question  that  she 
was  speaking  sincerely.  Mrs.  Danver  was 
quelled,  and  could  say  not  a  syllable.  After 
a  short  silence,  Madge  turned  back  to  the 
glass,  as  if  to  address  her  reflection  therein, 
and  added : 

"I  would  rather  have  a  fever  myself 
than  think  that  he  has  one.  Do  you  sup- 
pose I'm  afraid  of  the  contagion?  I'm  a 
woman,  and  sickness  couldn't  degrade  me, 
and,  if  there's  to  be  any  sickness,  I  should 
have  had  it  and  not  he.  Think  of  my  Garth, 
who  canoed  the  rapids  and  beat  Sam  Kineo, 
lying  helpless,  with  a  set  of  doctors  and 
nurses  round  him!  I'd  be  ashamed  to  get 
well,  if  I  were  a  man." 

"  There,  now,  Maggie,  I  do  think  you've 
said  enough,"  put  in  Mrs.  Danver,  partly 
scared  and  partly  scandalized.  "I've  often 
found  you  hard  and  bitter,  goodness  knows, 
but  I  did  think  you  cared  for  something, 
anyway." 

"  I  do  care  for  something ;  but  I  don't 
care  for  feebleness  and  disease.  If  he  were 
wounded  half  to  death  in  a  duel  or  a  battle, 
I'd  give  the  blood  he  lost  out  of  my  own 
veins  to  make  him  strong  again.  Well,  I 
won't  go  to  him ;  you  may  tell  what  you 
like  to  Mrs.  Tenterden." 

"Maggie  Danver,  you  was  always  an  un- 
certain child  to  do  with,"  said  Mrs.  Danver, 
with  solemnity.  "  Times  when  one  might 
look  for  you  to  be  cross  and  ugly,  you'd 
come  out  soft  and  smiling  as  an  ear  of  corn  ; 
and  times  again,  for  no  cause  ever  I  could 
see,  you'd  turn  as  uncomfortable  as  a  hail- 
storm. And  goodness  knows  it's  I  that  gets 
the  worst  of  it;  it's  not  Mr.  Graeme,  nor 
the  Urmsons,  nor  the  folks  at  the  picnic  and 
the  sewing-bees  that  hear  of  it.  What  I  say 
is,  I  used  to  think  you  had  a  bad  side  to  you, 
Maggie  Danver,  as  might  be  the  case  with 
others,  no  more,  no  less.  But  to  hear  what 
you've  said  this  day,  one  needn't  go  far  to 
believe  you're  just  bad  clear  way  through. 
Ah,  maybe  you  don't  pay  much  heed  now," 
continued  the  aggrieved  parent,  in  a  strained 


180 


GARTH. 


quaver — for,  to  tell  the  truth,  Madge  had 
been  quietly  walking  about  the  room  during 
the  greater  part  of  this  harangue,  laying 
away  her  things  and  humming  softly  to  her- 
self, as  though  in  profoundest  solitude  and 
abstraction — ''  but  the  time  will  come,  Mag- 
pie Danver — " 

At  this  juncture  Mrs.  Tenterden's  voice 
and  step  were  heard  in  the  passage,  and  the 
next  moment  her  imperative  knock  sounded 
on  the  door.  Madge's  mother  stepped  aside, 
with  a  pantomime  to  her  daughter,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  How  are  you  going  to  get  out  of 
it  now  ?  "  But  Madge's  spirit  was  fully  up, 
in  its  own  peculiar  way,  and  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  she  would,  at  that  moment, 
have  asserted  herself  in  the  face  of  any  odds, 
come  what  might  of  it.  She  walked  quietly 
to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

"Margaret,"  said  Mrs.  Tenterden,  in  a 
good-naturedly  authoritative  tone,  "you 
mustn't  think  of  coming  with  me,  dear.  I'm 
so  forgetful,  I  asked  you  to  go  without  think- 
ing, just  after  we'd  been  talking  about  the 
contagion  too!  Just  you  stay  quietly  at 
home,  and  we'll  send  you  news  of  him.  Oh, 
I  don't  suppose  it's  anything  serious — just 
he  caught  a  cold  and  got  a  little  feverish. — O 
Mrs.  Danver,  you  here  !  Keep  her  at  home, 
and  don't  let  her  get  all  nervous  and  wor- 
ried. Oh,  I  shall  find  my  way;  Nellie's 
going  out  for  her  constitutional  now,  and 
she'll  accompany  me  part  way,  so  as  I  won't 
get  lost."  So  spake  the  good  lady,  busily 
drawing  on  her  gloves  and  shaking  out  her 
skirts:  she  much  enjoyed  the  importance 
of  all  feminine  affairs.  "  Good-by,  dear !  " 
she  added,  and  stepping  forward  took  Mar- 
garet's hand  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek, 
the  young  lady  submitting  to  the  caress  with 
unusual  nonchalance ;  but  Mrs.  Tenterden 
was  too  much  preoccupied  to  notice  it. 
With  a  nod  and  a  smile  to  Mrs.  Danver,  she 
bustled  off,  and  soon  she  and  Elinor  were  on 
the  road  to  Urmhurst. 

Elinor  had  listened  to  the  news  of  Garth's 
illness  with  an  apparent  apathy  which  would 
have  struck  an  observer  as  being  distinctly 
uncomplimentary  to  the  invalid.  While  the 
others  were  conversing  about  it,  she  had 
turned  away  to  the  window,  and  stood 
drumming  absently  on  the  pane  with  her 


slender  finger-tips.  After  all  had  gone  out, 
and  Mrs.  Tenterden  was  stepping  briskly 
hither  and  thither,  getting  ready  for  her  ex- 
pedition, Elinor  left  the  window  and  daw- 
dled listlessly  to  the  sofa,  upon  which  she 
threw  herself  with  an  expression  of  gloomy 
ennui.  She  made  no  reply  to  the  elder  lady's 
interjections  and  scraps  of  remark ;  only 
upon  the  latter's  asking  her  to  run  and  see 
if  Margaret  was  ready,  she  had  replied,  with 
a  slight  yawn :  "  Of  course,  she  mustn't  go 
with  you,  mother.  It  would  be  better  that 
I  should  take  the  fever  than  that  she  should." 
And  again,  more  decidedly :  "  Of  course, 
she'll  want  to,  mother  ;  but  what  difference 
does  that  make  ?  As  to  your  missing  the 
road,  I'm  going  out  myself  by-and-by,  and 
I'd  as  lief  go  in  that  direction  as  in  any." 
Mrs.  Tenterden  was  in  the  habit  of  yielding 
to  Elinor's  will  and  judgment  in  all  questions 
pertaining  to  social  and  practical  conduct, 
reserving  the  right  to  disagree  with  her  on 
subjects  moral  and  theoretical.  Hence  the 
worthy  lady's  countermand  to  Madge,  and 
Elinor's  unpremeditated  "  constitutional." 

As  they  walked  along,  Mrs.  Tenterden 
as  usual,  assumed  the  laboring  oar  of  talk, 
conning  over,  as  talkative  people  will,  all 
the  possible  and  impossible  aspects  of  the 
affair,  trying  back  for  causes  and  explana- 
tions, and  prophesying  all  that  would  or 
might  or  could  not  result  therefrom.  At 
length,  however,  she  became  aware  that  her 
companion  was  not  paying  even  her  custom- 
ary tribute  of  "Yes,"  "No,"  and  "Oh," 
but  was  moving  beside  her  absolutely  silent 
and  inattentive,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the 
ground,  and  making  thrusts  at  the  earth 
with  the  point  of  her  umbrella. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  hear  any  more  than 
if  you  were  deaf,  daughter,"  she  cried,  in 
some  pique.  "  Don't  you  feel  well  ?  Mercy 
alive ! "  she  added,  laughing,  "  I  hope  you 
haven't  taken  the  fever  by  sympathy. 
There's  no  telling  but  it  may  have  been  in 
the  air  last  evening,  and  then  every  blessed 
one  of  us  might  get  it." 

"  There  would  be  some  fun  in  having  a 
malignant  case  of  typhoid,"  remarked  Elinor, 
with  one  of  her  odd,  one-sided  smiles ;  "you'd 
feel  you  had  a  right  to  ask  all  your  best 
friends  to  let  you  alone.  I  believe  I'll  take  it." 


FOUR  TEMPERS  LOST. 


181 


"  No,  Elinor  ;  I  don't  think  it's  right  to 
say  such  things ;  it's  like  tempting  Provi- 
dence," said  Mrs.  Tenterden,  with  religious 
gravity. 

"  Providence  tempts  us,"  returned  the 
girl,  with  a  slight  laugh.  '"It  goes  by  con- 
traries. Either  Garth  Urmson  or  I  might 
have  had  the  fever,  and,  because  it  would 
have  suited  mo,  he  had  it.  I  haven't  even 
an  excuse  for  catching  it  from  him,  as  Madge 
would  have." 

"  It  seems  n  very  strange  time  for  you  to 
be  talking  this  way,  daughter,  just  when 
you  ought  to  be  most  contented — with  your 
fate  settled  in  life,  and  everything." 

"  What  a  funny  thing  fate  is!  "  remarked 
Elinor,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  moralizing 
mood  this  morning.  "  People  can  have 
only  one  fate  in  their  lives,  and  yet  they 
can't  have  that  the  way  they'd  like  it.  I 
wonder  if  they  are  sorry  afterward  ?  Be- 
cause, after  all,  they  might  do  as  they  please, 
if  they  only  would.  Imagine  having  used 
up  all  your  life  in  doing  what  you  are  told 
is  your  duty,  and  then  finding,  after  all,  that 
you  had  only  wasted  and  spoiled  yourself, 
and  been  made  a  fool  of !  Then — I  should 
feel  that  Providence  was  evil.  You  needn't 
be  shocked,  mother ;  I  could  say  a  great 
deal  worse  things,  if  I  chose;  I  do  very 
often  to  myself.  Unluckily,  it  makes  no 
difference  what  I  think  or  say.  I  feel  some- 
times that,  if  I  were  to  have  two  lives,  I 
should  be  unspeakably  wicked  in  the  sec- 
ond one,  out  of  revenge ;  oh,  more  wicked 
than —  I  never  could  be  wicked  enough." 

"  I  declare,  I  think  you're  quite  wicked 
enough  as  it  is,  Nellie,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tenr 
tsrden,  thoroughly  angered  by  this  uncalled- 
for  wantonness  of  impiety.  "I  beg  you 
won't  speak  to  me  again;  I've  a  right  to 
my  ears,  I  suppose,  and  I  won't  listen  to  it. 
I  don't  see  who  has  less  right  to  find  fault 
with  the  way  she  has  been  treated  than  yon 
have.  What  have  yon  ever  known  of  any 
hardships,  I  should  like  to  know?  and 
everything  has  always  been  just  as  you 
wanted  it.  You're  a  spoiled  child — that's 
what  you  are.  I'm  sure  John  and  I  did 
everything ;  I'm  sure  I  never  asked  or  ex- 
pected any  return— I  wouldn't  demean  my- 
self to  take  the  least  thing.  You  can  never 


say  that  against  me.  I  declare,  I  think  it's 
very  unfeeling  and  ungrateful  of  you,  Nellie, 
to  do — the — way  you — do  !  And  just  when 
you've  got  Golightley  to  marry  you,  so  as — 
you — can  do  without  me."  Here  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden began  to  sob  resentfully  and  for- 
lornly. She  belonged  to  a  class  of  per- 
sons who  must  ever  be  the  despair  of  lo- 
gicians. 

Elinor  stabbed  a  tuft  of  grass  with  her 
umbrella,  and  halted.  "  The  house  is  right 
round  this  bend,"  she  said,  with  her  coldest 
tone  and  glance.  u  I  had  better  not  go  any 
farther.  I  suppose  your  brother  will  come 
back  with  you.  Good-by."  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den  stared  a  few  seconds  at  the  stern,  pure 
young  face  with  a  cross-eyed  glance  that 
characterized  her  when  embarrassed  or  of- 
fended. Then  she  wheeled  about,  and 
walked  off  with  short  steps,  her  head 
thrown  up  and  slanted  toward  the  right — 
likewise  signs  expressive  of  indignation. 
Elinor  also  turned,  and  set  forth  in  the  op- 
posite direction ;  but  before  she  had  gone  a 
dozen  yards  she  stopped  again,  and,  hasten- 
ing back,  overtook  Mrs.  Tenterden. 

"  Mother,  will  you  forgive  me  ?  I  sup- 
pose I  think  I  have  hardships,  and  that  is  as 
bad  as  really  having  them,  or  worse.  But, 
don't  say  I  was  taking  advantage  of  my — of 
your  brother,  to  be  ungrateful.  Mother — 
oh,  not  ungrateful,  am  I  ?  "  The  girl's  face, 
always  so  susceptible  of  delicate  shades  of 
expression,  was  touched  for  a  moment  with 
an  angelic  light.  Her  mouth  trembled,  try- 
ing to  smile,  and  longing  to  weep.  Her  eyes 
grew  large  and  tense,  till  tears  entered  them. 
Her  hands  unconsciously  reached  forward 
as  if  she  would  have  fallen  on  the  other's 
neck,  to  try  and  kiss  and  be  forgiven.  But 
who  are  so  implacable  as  those  who  cannot 
tell  how  they  have  been  injured  ?  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden's  wrath  had  not  had  time  to  subside. 
With  an  air  of  insulted  resignation  she  held 
up  her  cheek  for  Elinor's  penitential  salute. 
Elinor  shrank  back  as  from  an  invisible  buf- 
fet, looking  aged  and  hardened  in  a  breath. 
"  Well,  never  mind,"  she  said,  lightly  ;  "  no 
doubt  I  shall  be  properly  punished,  at  last." 

So  they  parted,  being  none  the  better 
for  this  attempted  reconciliation.  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden proceeded  to  Urmhurst,  supported 


182 


GARTH. 


by  a  lively  sense  of  the  disparity  between 
her  deserts  and  her  allowances  ;  and  Elinor 
walked  like  one  in  the  wilderness,  alone  and 
without  hope  of  companionship. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

OPINION   AXD   PREJUDICE. 

GARTH'S  fever  seemed  to  fasten  its  grip 
upon  the  brain ;  he  lay  muttering  unintelli- 
gibly and  tossing  about ;  his  eyes  generally 
closed,  his  lips  dark  and  cracked,  he  knew 
no  one,  but  he  was  particularly  sensitive  to 
sound  and  to  the  tones  of  various  voices.  His 
delirium  sometimes  became  violent,  and  then 
only  his  father  might  come  near  him.  From 
his  boyhood  up  Garth  had  reverenced  his 
father  almost  more  than  he  had  loved  him ; 
and  now,  in  the  confusion  of  his  reason,  he 
would  still  listen  and  yield  when  the  old 
man  spoke.  He  commonly  endured  the 
ministrations  of  Nikomis  indifferently  well ; 
but  Mrs.  Tenterden,  in  spite  of  her  truly 
kind  and  warm-hearted  intentions,  had  an 
unfavorable  effect  upon  his  nervous  system, 
apparent  whenever  she  entered  the  room. 
Her  talk — or  rather  her  whisper,  but  it 
amounted  to  nearly  the  same  thing — her 
would-be  cautious  manner  of  moving  about, 
the  very  sphere  of  her  presence,  seemed  to 
discomfort  him :  at  least  so  thought  every- 
body except  good  Mrs.  Tenterden  herself, 
who  could  never  be  brought  to  suspect  it. 
Outside  of  the  sick-room,  indeed,  she  was  a 
useful  assistant,  but  the  ever-instant  prob- 
lem was  how  to  keep  her  outside.  Cuth- 
bert,  who  was  constitutionally  prone  to  be- 
come genial  under  the  pressure  of  active 
misfortunes,  was  in  the  mood  to  derive  a 
good  deal  of  secret  enjoyment  from  the  plan- 
ning and  carrying  out  of  the  numberless 
subtile  schemes  whereby  his  fair  fellow-nurse 
was  beguiled  into  keeping  her  distance,  and 
blinded  to  the  fact  of  her  beguilement. 

As  to  poor  Golightley,  there  was  no  op- 
portunity for  smoothing  orer  matters  with 
him.  It  may  be  recollected  that  Garth,  in 
his  first  interview  with  his  uncle  by  the  lake- 
side, had  conceived  what  is  called  an  instinc- 
tive prejudice  against  him,  owing  to  some 


unprepossessing  quality  or  other  in  the  in- 
flection of  his  voice.  This  prejudice,  so  long 
as  the  young  man's  impulses  remained  sub- 
ject to  will  and  reason,  had  been  kept  in 
abeyance;  but  it  now  asserted  itself  with 
distorted  emphasis.  When  his  benevolent 
relative,  therefore,  duly  fortified  by  fumiga- 
tion, stepped  soothingly  up  to  the  bedside, 
and,  laying  a  gloved  hand  on  the  sick  man's 
shoulder,  exclaimed,  "  Why,  Garth,  my  dear 
boy,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Come, 
you  must  get  well  at  once — I  can't  allow  you 
to  be  breaking  all  the  young  ladies'  hearts 
by  any  such  devices" — the  unbridled  Garth 
howled  like  a  wild  beast,  and  raised  himself 
up  in  bed  with  such  a  formidable  aspect  as 
plainly  declared  his  enmity.  Golightley  took 
this  ugly  reception  very  good-humoredly ; 
and,  though,  of  course,  he  made  no  further 
attempt  to  heal  the  distemper  by  personal 
magnetism,  he  grudged  no  pains  to  be  ser- 
viceable and  considerate  at  second-hand. 

When  fever  gets  hold  of  a  strong  and 
hitherto  healthy  man,  it  seldom  minces  mat- 
ters with  him,  but  puts  forth  its  full  strength 
and  virulence.  Garth,  who  since  the  measles 
had  never  known  sickness,  seemed  bound  to 
make  up  for  lost  time  now.  He  plunged 
into  the  disease  as  if  he  loved  it  and  could 
not  get  enough  of  it;  it  was  hard  to  say 
whether  he  possessed  it  or  it  him,  but  it  was 
a  perilous  intimacy  either  way.  The  homoeo- 
pathic medicines,  though  possibly  keeping 
matters  somewhat  within  bounds,  did  not 
immediately  check  or  even  visibly  alleviate 
the  complaint.  Mrs.  Tenterden,  who  had 
seen  yellow  fever  at  Charleston,  and  conse- 
quently thought  her  opinion  upon  sickness 
in  general  to  be  entitled  to  the  first  consid- 
eration, began  after  a  day  or  two  to  lift  her 
eyebrows  and  depress  her  mouth,  and  affirm, 
with  a  shake  of  the  head,  that  Garth  was  a 
very  sick  man.  Golightley  hem'd  and  ha'd 
at  this  information,  stroked  his  face  and 
scrutinized  his  boots  dejectedly,  and,  walking 
to  the  window,  stood  puffing  cigarette-smoke 
against  the  panes.  Nikoinis  received  it  with 
wrinkled  and  swarthy  impassiveness ;  had 
she  been  chiseled  out  of  the  bricks  of  the 
chimney-corner  in  which  she  abode,  she 
could  not  have  displayed  completer  apathy ; 
nevertheless,  she  always  took  care  to  have 


OPINION  AND   PREJUDICE. 


183 


the  invalid's  food  and  drink  ready  and  good, 
and  she  further  vouchsafed  one  or  two  dishes 
of  pure  Indian  parentage — mysterious  con- 
coctions of  certain  herbs— which  seemed  to 
suit  him  better  than  any  other  part  of  his  diet. 
When  Garth's  illness  became  known  to 
the  general  public  of  Urmsworth,  and  it  was 
understood  to  be  something  really  serious, 
they  all  constituted  themselves  his  biogra- 
pher, giving  one  another  abstracts  of  his 
career  from  infancy  up  to  the  present  time ; 
throwing  especial  light  (gratuitously  provided 
by  the  brilliance  of  their  imaginations)  upon 
the  more  obscure  and  questionable  episodes ; 
weighing  his  good  qualities  against  his  bad, 
and  generally  shaking  their  heads  over  the 
result;  forecasting  sagely  what  might  have 
been  his  future,  and  pointing  out,  with  a  ca- 
dence of  warning  melancholy  in  their  tones, 
the  causes  leading  up  to  his  present  over- 
throw and  approaching  dissolution.  So  the 
old  Urmson  family  was  doomed  to  die  out  ? 
Well,  like  as  not  it  had  run  on  about  long 
enough.  No  call  to  suppose  it  would  have 
grown  better  than  it  had  been ;  and,  speaking 
honestly,  the  Urmsons  were  never  a  grow- 
ing, progressive  lot;  had  not  gone  ahead 
with  the  times,  but  stuck  in  the  same  place, 
pretty  near,  that  they  were  in  two  hundred 
years  back.  They  weren't  the  kind  to  do 
their  neighbors  much  good,  and,  worse  than 
that,  they  wouldn't  let  their  neighbors  im- 
prove them.  Aristocracy  was  not  recog- 
nized in  the  American  Constitution,  but 
somehow  the  Urmsons  had  always  acted  as  if 
they  were  an  inch  or  two  bigger  than  any- 
body else.  Golightley  Urmson — well,  there 
was  some  excuse  for  him,  and  he  might  do 
something  yet;  but  the  rest  had  about  as 
well  go.  Urmhurst  was  a  first-rate  site  for 
an  hotel,  and  an  hotel  was  what  the  village 
wanted;  Garth  would  likely  be  buried  this 
winter;  the  old  man  would  hardly  stop 
above-ground  many  months  after  him  ;  some 
enterprising  chap  might  purchase  the  estate, 
put  in  a  few  additions  and  alterations  to  the 
old  shanty,  paint  it  white,  and  cut  down  the 
big  trees  round  about,  and  who  knows  but 
what — well,  say,  a  year  from  next  spring — 
there  might  be  as  spruce  an  hotel  standing 
there  as  could  be" found  in  the  State?  Say  a 
year  from  next  spring  at  the  outside. 


The  Rev.  Mr.  Graeme,  on  first  learning 
the  news,  set  out  for  Urmhurst  with  the  in- 
tention of  bringing  to  bear  upon  the  invalid 
his  three  hundred  pounds  avoirdupois  of  re- 
ligious cheer  and  consolation.  But  the  road 
was  longer  than  it  had  been  in  the  good  pas- 
tor's younger  years,  and  by  the  time  he  had 
reached  his  destination  he  had  quite  forgot- 
ten the  occasion  of  his  coming.  It  was 
therefore  with  renewed  concern  that  he 
heard  of  his  grandson's  indisposition ;  but, 
having  in  the  course  of  his  walk  traveled 
backward  into  time  some  twenty  years  or  so, 
he  bethought  himself  to  remark  that,  after 
all,  Garth  was  barely  five  years  old  yet,  and 
could  only  be  suffering  from  some  one  of  the 
complaints  incident  to  childhood.  "  Where's 
Martha?  "  he  added,  looking  around. — "Ay, 
you  are  here,  Mrs.  Tenterden;  and  very 
hearty  you  are  looking,  ma'am;  but  the 
child  ought  to  have  its  own  mother — noth- 
ing like  its  own  mother. — Eh,  Cuthbert? 
ha !  ha !  "  Then,  after  a  silence  of  a  few 
moments,  ho  looked  again  at  Mr.  Urmson, 
and  said :  "  Ay,  boy,  she's  dead,  poor  girl ! 
It  was  I  read  the  service  over  her;  and 
Garth,  to  be  sure,  is  a  man  now;  so  he's 
done  with  that  fever  you  were  telling  me  of 
— done  long  ago.  Well,  well,  it  seemed  but 
just  now  I  was  starting  up  from  the  village 
to  comfort  ye  all  about  him. — I  forget  things 
here  and  there,  ma'am,  sometimes,  I  believe. 
— I  came  to  tell  you,  Cuthbert  lad,  I'd  preach 
again  on  Sunday.  I'll  preach  from  the 
blessed  Lord's  healing  the  sick;  and  we'll 
have  prayer  for  Garth,  and  for  ye  all,  that 
ye  may  be  comforted  concerning  him. — Come 
and  hear  me,  lad,  and  you'll  feel  all  the  bet- 
ter for  it.  God  bless  you  and  prosper  you ! — 
You've  been  a  good  husband,  Cuthbert,  and 
you'll  be  a  happy  father. — God  bless  yo 
all !  " 

So  the  benignant  old  giant  went  back  to 
the  village.  His  heart  was  as  true  and  sound 
as  ever,  but  the  strings  of  the  mind  had 
grown  slack  and  out  of  accord,  so  that  it  was 
no  longer  possible  to  get  coherent  music 
from  them.  Whether  the  minister  ever 
wrote  out  or  composed  his  proposed  sermon 
must  remain  a  matter  of  doubt;  at  all 
events,  he  duly  appeared  in  the  pulpit  (where 
he  had  rarely  officiated  of  late),  and  gave  out 


184 


GARTH. 


the  text  as  he  had  announced  it  a  few  days 
before  to  the  circle  at  Urmhurst.  But  when 
he  began  to  preach,  the  congregation  rubbed 
their  foreheads,  and  consulted  the  text  over 
again.  The  sermon  was  logical,  connected, 
and  able  beyond  all  expectation ;  but  it  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  subject 
specified.  The  preacher's  delivery  was  more 
forcible  and  like  old  times  than  had  been  the 
case  for  years — on  that  point  everybody 
agreed ;  but  not  a  word  did  he  let  fall  about 
healing  the  sick  from  beginning  to  end. 
Probably  the  solution  of  the  mystery  would 
never  have  been  discovered  to  this  day,  had 
not  Madge  Danver  been  in  church ;  she  had 
always  been  noted  for  her  good  memory, 
and  by  the  time  the  discourse  was  half 
over  she  had  seen  through  the  whole  mat- 
ter. 

"  It  was  one  he  preached  about  ten  years 
ago,"  she  said  to  Elinor,  as  they  walked 
home  together.  "  I  remember  it  very  well, 
because  it  was  the  only  time  Garth  was  ever 
at  church.  I  suppose  the  poor  old  man,  in 
thinking  of  Garth  and  of  preaching  at  the 
same  time,  got  possessed  somehow  with  his 
old  sermon,  and  imagined  the  world  had 
gone  back  to  that  same  memorable  Sun- 
day." 

"  It  was  a  good  sermon,"  said  Elinor. 

"  I  remember,  when  he  preached  it  be- 
fore, people  said  it  was  the  best  he  had 
done;  but  it  wasn't  very  appropriate  for 
this  occasion,  was  it?  It  was  meant,  you 
know,  to  give  advice  and  encouragement  to 
some  one  just  beginning  life,  as  it  were ; 
and  Garth,  perhaps,  is  very  near  the  end  of 
his  life  now." 

Elinor  turned  and  looked  full  at  her  com- 
panion, who  had  uttered  this  sentence  in  the 
same  soft,  even  tone  in  which  she  had  been 
speaking  all  along.  "Was  Madge  a  miracle  of 
resignation?  or  was  it  possible  that  she  was 
indifferent?  As  the  question  presented  it- 
self to  her,  Elinor  suddenly  blushed.  Could 
Garth  be  dying,  and  this  girl  not  care — this 
lovely,  sweet  •  tempered,  naive,  charming 
creature,  who  had  seemed  to  love  him  so 
devotedly — could  she  actually  not  care?  It 
was  not  to  be  believed.  Yet,  with  a  renewed 
shock  of  misgiving,  Elinor  recollected  her 
first  secret  surprise  when  Mrs.  Tenterden 


had  succeeded  in  persuading  Madge  not  to 
run  the  risk  of  visiting  Urmhurst.  It  was 
true  that  Elinor  herself  had  argued  against 
it,  and  had  hitherto  not  permitted  herself  to 
harbor  a  suspicion  against  Madge's  true- 
heartedness.  But  now,  venturing  for  a  mo- 
ment to  imagine  herself  in  Madge's  place, 
she  could  not  help  thinking  that  nothing 
short  of  physical  force  would  have  availed 
to  restrain  her  from  tending  the  bedside  of 
a  man  she  loved.  It  might  be  unreasonable, 
rash,  selfish — anything;  but  she  felt  that  she 
would  have  gone,  and  trusted  to  love  to  take 
care  of  her.  Had  Madge  felt  thus,  and  yet 
let  herself  be  held  back,  yielding,  too,  with 
so  little  apparent  difficulty,  and  now  allud- 
ing to  a  possible  fatal  end  with  so  strangely 
quiet  a  demeanor  ?  Why,  that  was  not  to  be 
believed  either! 

Elinor  was  almost  severely  straightfor- 
ward, and  she  was  at  first  on  the  brink  of 
directly  asking  Madge  in  so  many  words  to 
resolve  her  doubt.  But  a  second  thought 
made  her  pause  and  change  her  intention. 
For  more  reasons  than  one  she  could  not 
speak  with  her  companion  on  this  subject, 
and  she  blushed  again  as  she  admitted  it. 
But  the  episode  produced  a  deep  effect  upon 
her,  one  that  would  not  easily  wear  away. 
From  this  time  forth  she  watched  Madge 
with  a  singular  kind  of  impersonal  jealousy, 
and  her  own  situation  became  fraught,  to  her 
mind,  with  many  fresh  difficulties. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

A    VOLUNTEER. 

THE  third  week  of  Garth's  illness  was 
marked  by  great  prostration,  only  occa- 
sionally varied  by  delirium.  Whereas  in  the 
first  week  it  had  been  necessary  to  lower 
the  preternatural  nnrest  of  the  patient,  it 
was  now  requisite  to  prop  him  up  with  every 
kind  of  stimulant.  Nikomis  stolidly  but 
actively  asserted  her  faith  in  the  virtue  of 
pure  brandy,  and  administered  it  with  a  free- 
dom which  somewhat  awed  squeamish  Mrs. 
Tenterden.  But,  in  the  teeth  of  all  remedies, 
Garth  continued  to  sink,  the  mischief  appear- 
ing to  concentrate  more  and  more  in  the 


A  VOLUNTEER. 


185 


brain.  A  secret  dread  began  to  grow  in 
Cuthbert's  mind  lest,  even  should  Garth  fight 
his  way  back  to  health,  his  reason  would  be 
lost  in  the  struggle,  and  he  began  to  pray 
that  his  son  might  rather  die.  After  so  stern 
a  prayer,  the  faded  old  gentleman,  lying 
wrapped  in  his  dressing-gown  on  a  sofa  near 
the  sick-room,  would  sometimes  indulge  in 
one  of  his  subtile,  unaccountable  smiles.  Was 
he  amused  at  this  ignoble  end  of  the  haughty 
Urmson  family?  or  could  he,  defeate'd  and 
thrust  down  to  the  lowest  pit  of  fortune,  yet 
so  far  sympathize  with  inscrutable  Destiny 
as  to  reflect  her  ironic  grimace? 

Long,  blank  silences  ebbed  themselves 
away,  Cuthbert  sitting  or  lying  motionless, 
but  for  the  most  part  unsleeping ;  for  a  phys- 
ical not  less  than  a  mental  anguish  dwelt  in 
his  breast,  and  left  him  small  leisure  for  re- 
pose. The  only  nurses  besides  himself  were 
Nikomis  and  Mrs.  Tenterden.  The  village 
doctor,  who  had  tended  the  case  up  to  the 
last  week,  had  then  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
thrown  from  his  horse  and  break  his  leg, 
and  he  had  been  confined  to  his  room  ever 
since.  Cuthbert  thereupon  had  determined 
upon  sending  for  Professor  Grindle,  and  Go- 
lightley  had  volunteered  to  go  to  Bowdoin 
College  to  fetch  him ;  but  they  had  not  yet 
been  heard  from.  It  was  a  critical  and 
anxious  time.  Garth,  as  he  lay  muttering  on 
his  bed,  was  an  unprepossessing  thing  to  look 
at.  His  bony  forehead  and  shaggy  brows, 
his  great  cheek-bones  and  gaunt  jaws  stood 
forth  almost  fleshless;  his  sunken  eyes  were 
like  dull  embers  at  the  bottom  of  caverns ; 
his  swarthy  hair  rose  erect  about  his  head, 
a  black  jungle  of  inextricable  tangles;  his 
hollow  cheeks  were  rough  and  savage  with 
a  three  weeks'  growth  of  beard.  Through 
all  his  prostration,  however,  he  was  singu- 
larly alive  to  certain  seemingly  immateri- 
al things,  such  as  the  influence  of  certain 
spheres,  and  harmonious  or  discordant 
sounds.  No  one  but  Cuthbert  could  approach 
him  with  impunity,  though,  except  when  he 
was  irritated,  or,  more  rarely,  soothed,  he 
appeared  unconscious  of  everything  around 
him.  By-ftnd-by  even  his  father  felt  that 
his  power  over  him  was  on  the  wane.  Garth 
disregarded  his  voice,  and  resented  his  touch. 
Good  Mrs.  Tenterden,  -who,  helpful  though 


she  had  been  throughout,  could  not  forego 
her  prerogative  of  discussing  painful  matters 
with  the  wrong  persons,  once  let  fall  to  Mr. 
Urmson  something  about  keepers  and  asy- 
lums, thereby  occasioning  him  a  momentary 
awful  sinking  of  the  soul.  Anon  summon- 
ing his  strength  from  some  hidden  source 
(there  was  no  sign  of  any  in  his  meagre, 
bowed  figure),  he  made  shift  to  answer  with 
a  sober  cheerfulness  of  tone  that  must  have 
cost  him  dear.  But  again  that  night,  after 
Mrs.  Tenterden  had  returned  home,  he  re- 
lapsed to  an  inward  agony,  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  Ainen  stuck  in  his  throat. 
Toward  morning  he  prayed  that,  if  there 
were  anything  in  the  world  which  might 
save  his  son,  it  should  be  made  manifest  at 
once;  if  not,  might  the  worst  declare  itself 
without  delay!  With  this  petition  on  his 
lips,  he  stood  with  folded  arms  by  the  bed 
side  of  the  gaunt  invalid,  and  gazed  yearn- 
ingly upon  him.  "  Garth,  dear  old  curmud- 
geon, what  a  good-for-nothing  father  I  must 
seem  to  you !  It's  hard  I  cannot  help  you 
now." 

A  bird,  the  latest  lingering  of  the  south- 
ward-departing tribe,  alit  for  a  moment  on 
the  bare  bough  of  a  tree  by  the  window  to 
warble  a  golden  bar  of  farewell  melody.  It 
seemed  to  reach  Garth's  ears.  He  partly 
turned  his  head  toward  the  window,  and 
moved  his  hand ;  the  haggard  harshness  of 
his  face  softened  somewhat.  "  If  I  could 
cage  that  bird,  its  song  might  help  him," 
went  through  Cuthbert's  mind.  But  the 
next  instant  the  bird  flew  off,  and  soon  was 
miles  away,  sailing  southward  over  the  frost- 
nipped  valley,  and  aiming  onward  toward 
Wabeno  and  far  beyond.  It  was  like  the 
flight  of  a  last  hope.  Cuthbert  turned  round, 
pressing  his  hand  on  his  breast,  and  uttering 
a  lo\v  sigh  of  pain.  Nikomis  was  standing 
in  the  doorway,  looking  like  a  grotesque 
heathen  idol  carved  out  of  mahogany. 

"  Cuthbert,  you  come  go  to  bed,"  she 
said,  gruffly.  "You  die  too  soon  enough 
anyway.  Garth  all  right;  he  better  soon; 
me  take  care.  Come !  " 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  outlive  him,  for 
decency's  sake,  being  his  head  nurse,"  an- 
swered Cuthbert,  with  a  nervous  twitching 
of  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  "And  I  be- 


186 


GARTH. 


lieve  I'm  in  for  a  bad  hour  or  so,  sure  enough. 
If  I  shouldn't  be  better  by  ten  o'clock  this 
morning,  you  must  look  out  for  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den  with  the  new  medicine.  She  expected 
to  be  up  from  the  village  by  that  time.  And 
be  sure  you  understand  the  directions  she 
will  give  you.  However,  I  shall  have  to  be 
up,  anyway,  for  no  one  but  I  can  follow  out 
the  directions  even  when  they  are  known. 
So  call  me  when  she  comes,  Nikomis." 

But  it  so  happened  that  Mrs.  Tenterden 
did  not  arrive  at  the  expected  hour.  On 
reaching  the  Danvers'  cottage  the  night  pre- 
vious, she  had  gone  to  bed  complaining  of 
indisposition,  and  declaring  that  she  believed 
she  had  caught  the  fever  at  last,  and  only 
wondered  she  had  not  done  so  long  before. 
Elinor,  after  some  examination,  was  pretty 
well  satisfied  that  the  matter  was  not  quite 
so  serious  as  the  elder  lady  supposed,  and 
the  sequel  justified  her  diagnosis.  Never- 
theless, Mrs.  Tenterden  contrived  to  pass  a 
tolerably  bad  night,  and  by  morning  it  was 
a  settled  thing  that  she  must  keep  her  bed 
during  the  day. 

"If  anybody  could  take  my  place!" 
complained  she.  "But  that's  the  worst  of 
it.  Poor  Mr.  Urmson's  as  sick  as  can  be 
himself,  but  he  and  I  together  might  man- 
age ;  but  he  can  do  nothing  alone.  There's 
Golightley  gone  over  to  Brunswick  to  see 
that  Professor  Grindle ;  but  he'd  be  no  good, 
anyway.  It's  no  use,  the  poor  young  man 
must  die,  and  that's  all  about  it.  I  declare, 
Nellie,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  died  my- 
self. You've  no  idea  how  sick  I  am !  " 

The  breach  between  these  two  had  till 
now  remained  unhealed;  but  the  presence 
of  disease  and  worry  seemed  to  influence  the 
kind  old  lady  to  forgive  and  forget,  and  Eli- 
nor was  disposed  to  meet  the  hand  of  recon- 
ciliation half-way.  She  had  never  felt  so 
alone  as  during  these  latter  days — not  even 
when  her  father  and  mother  lay  dying  in 
Charleston,  and  she  knew  not  where  to  find 
a  home  beyond  their  grave.  It  is  not  rever- 
ent nor  necessary  to  inquire  too  closely  what 
thoughts  and  impulses,  what  resolves  and 
fears,  had  visited  her  in  the  cheerless  period 
of  her  late  solitude.  Their  only  outward 
effect  upon  Elinor  was  to  render  her  unusu- 
ally gentle  and  forbearing,  as  one  might  be 


who  had  secretly  determined  on  making  a 
long  journey,  and  wished  to  leave  tender 
recollections  in  the  hearts  of  those  she  left 
behind. 

"  Couldn't  you  at  least  send  some  one  to 
the  house  with  the  medicines,  mother? "  she 
asked.  "  Would  not  Mrs.  Danver — or  ought 
not  Madge  to  go?  If  he  were  to  die  for 
want  of  some  help  that  Madge  might  have 
given  him,  what  would  become  of  her?  1 
think  we  have  no  right  to  prevent  her  from 
having  a  free  choice  about  it,  one  way  or 
the  other.  Shall  I  tell  her  ?  " 

"  Seems  as  if  it  would  look  rather  hard  to 
have  him  just  dying  up  there,  and  she  know- 
ing nothing  about  it,"  groaned  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den. "She  can't  do  anything,  though,  and 
it  would  be  just  tempting  Providence  to  go 
into  that  house  with  the  contagion.  I  know- 
that  to  my  cost.  And  it's  more  apt  a  great 
deal  to  catch  young  people  than  old  ones. 
Besides,  it  was  I  prevented  Madge  from 
going  when  she  wanted  to  at  first,  and  there's 
really  no  more  reason  for  it  now.  Poor 
young  man !  I  wish  he  was  in  better  hands. 
Of  course,  Mr.  Urmson  is  very  kind  and  care- 
ful, but,  he  really  doesn't  seem  to  care  much 
about  him ;  I'm  sures  he  smiles  and  makes 
jokes  as  if  he  expected  him  to  be  well  to- 
morrow. And  the  poor  young  man  has  got 
something  twisted  round  his  neck.  Nikomis 
says  he's  had  it  there  ever  since  the  first 
morning;  anyway,  it's  twisted  so  tight  that 
I  wouldn't  be  surprised  to  hear  he'd  stran- 
gled himself  with  it  at  any  time." 

"  Why  isn't  it  taken  off  ?" 

"Yes,  you  don't  know,  my  dear.  It 
would  be  as  much  as  anybody's  life  was 
worth  to  take  it  off.  Of  course,  it  can't  be 
untied,  and  if  you  were  to  use  a  pair  of  scis- 
sors or  a  knife,  it  would  be  the  death  of  one 
or  both  of  you.  I  tell  you  he's  as  jealous 
of  it  as  if  it  were  some  great  treasure.  I 
thought,"  added  Mrs.  Tenterden,  chuckling 
faintly,  in  spite  of  her  general  misery,  "  may- 
be it  was  something  of  Madge's  she'd  given 
him,  and  he  remembered  was  hers  all  through 
his  delirium,  poor  boy." 

"What  was  it? — a  handkerchief,  or  a 
scarf—" 

"Mercy,  child,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Tenterden,  rolling  over  on  the  pillow.  "I 


A  SOPHIST. 


187 


didn't  see  distinctly.  It  looked  gray  and 
silky.  Maybe  it  was  a  scarf,  or  an  old  veil, 
or  something.  But  you  mark  my  words,  if 
he  don't  strangle  himself  if  it  isn't  taken 
away  from  him." 

Elinor  felt  her  heart  beating  and  her 
hands  growing  cold.  She  walked  to  the 
window  and  looked  out,  trying  to  quiet  her- 
self. But  she  could'  not  be  quiet.  She 
walked  back  to  the  bedside.  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den,  with  her  back  turned,  seemed  to  have 
fallen  into  a  doze.  After  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion Elinor  went  softly  out  of  the  room,  and, 
running  down-stairs,  entered  the  kitchen. 

"Mother  won't  be  able  to  go  up  to  the 
house  to-day,  Mrs.  Danver,"  she  said.  "  There 
is  some  medicine  which  should  be  taken  there 
immediately.  Will  Madge  go  with  it?  " 

"Well,  Miss  Golightley,  I  suppose  likely 
the  child  would  take  it,  and  gladly,"  Mrs. 
Danver  replied,  speaking  with  hesitation, 
however,  and  avoiding  Elinor's  eyes.  "To 
be  sure,  it  has  seemed  as  though  folks  was 
working  to  keep  'em  apart,  and  those  who 
hadn't  so  much  call  was  taking  her  place. 
It's  not  for  me  to  speak,  and  Garth  he's 
near  to  me  as  my  own  son,  goodness  knows, 
though  I  do  think  he  might  have  been  a  little 
more  spry,  and  not  have  kept  my  poor  girl 
waiting  while  he  was  painting  his  pictures 
and  living  in  Europe,  and  not  making  much 
out  of  the  business,  either,  if  one  might  say 
so." 

"  She  won't  go,  then  ?  " 

"  Keally,  well,  I  don't  see  any  call  to  be 
so  sudden,  Miss  Golightley,"  said  Mrs.  Dan- 
ver, panting.  "  I'm  sure  there's  a  good  long 
time  gone  by,  and  nobody  thought  of  asking 
her  whether  she'd  go  or  not.  Not  but  the 
child  would  go,  and  gladly,  if  it  hadn't 
seemed  as  if  folks  was  keeping  her  away. 
But  now  I  think  of  it,  miss,  I  don't  know 
where  Maggie  is  just  at  the  present.  She 
went  out  about  an  hour  since  without  drop- 
ping a  syllable,  and  when  she'll  be  back  is 
more  than  I  can  say.  Likely  she's  run  up  to 
the  house  Avithout  waiting  for  an  asking.  I 
couldn't  say." 

"And  you  yourself  could  not  leave  the 
house,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  really,  miss,  you  come  so  sudden. 
I'm  sure  I'd  go,  and  gladly,  and  have  gone 


any  time  the  last  three  weeks,  but  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden  seemed  to  think  it  belonged  to  her, 
being  a  relation,  I  presume,  and  it  wasn't 
for  me  to  speak.  But  I'm  such  an  invalid, 
and  my  hip  comes  on  so  badly  these  last  cold 
days.  Though  if  Mr.  Stacy  could  lend  his 
wagon,  perhaps  I  might.  I'm  sure  I  care 
for  Garth  dearly  as  my  own  son,  though  it 
seemed  hard  of  him  to  keep  Maggie  waiting 
so  long." 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  for 
me  to  find  some  one  to  take  up  the  medicine, 
without  need  of  your  troubling  yourself  about 
Mr.  Stacy's  wagon?"  suggested  Elinor,  in- 
voluntarily putting  her  hand  over  her  heart. 
"  No  doubt  one  of  the  village  boys  would  be 
glad  to  run  up  with  it.  You  might  be  with- 
in call  of  Mrs.  Tenterden,  if  she  were  to 
need  anything  while  I'm  away.  Will  that 
do?" 

Mrs.  Danver  seemed  to  think  there  were 
no  insurmountable  objections,  and  Elinor 
returned  up-stairs,  trembling,  but  glad  in 
a  subdued,  exalted  way.  She  hastily  put  on 
her  hat  and  warm  winter  jacket,  scarlet, 
with  lining  of  soft,  gray  fur,  and  then  noise- 
lessly reentered  Mrs.  Tenterden's  chamber. 
The  packet  of  medicine  was  lying  on  the 
table,  and  she  put  it  in  her  pocket.  She 
stepped  up  to  the  bed,  and,  bending  over  the 
sleeping  woman,  lightly  kissed  her  on  the 
cheek.  She  started  down  the  stairs,  but, 
before  reaching  the  landing,  she  returned  in 
obedience  to  a  sudden  impulse,  and,  going  to 
her  violin-case,  took  out  her  instrument  and 
bow,  and  slipping  them  underneath  her  jack- 
et, finally  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

A   SOPHIST. 

WITHOUT  wasting  any  time  in  making  in- 
quiries after  errand-boys,  she  struck  off  from 
the  village,  and  took  her  way  swiftly  toward 
Urmhurst.  She  walked  with  her  eyes  on 
the  ground,  wholly  preoccupied,  but  there 
were  a  freedom"  and  good-will  in  her  motion 
which  showed  that  she  was  going  whither 
her  deepest  inclination  led  her.  And,  now 
that  the  Rubicon  of  her  purpose  was  safely 


188 


GARTH. 


overpassed,  and  there  were  no  more  olsta-  ' 
cles  or  hesitations  in  her  way,  her  heart  • 
moved  at  ease,  her  fingers  were  warm,  her  ; 
breathing  quiet,  and  her  cheeks  slightly 
tinged  with  pink.  A  man  in  her  place 
would  have  been  grave  and  stern,  or  astir 
with  nervous  anxiety;  but  Elinor  was 
sweetly  conscious  of  an  inward  lightness  and 
satisfaction,  contrasting  with  the  gloom  of 
the  past  weeks  as  a  summer  day  with  a  win- 
ter night.  An  older  woman,  or  one  who 
tasted  the  sweet  and  bitter  flavors  of  life 
with  less  intense  an  appreciation,  might 
have  lent  an  ear  to  the  demurs  of  con- 
science, questioning  her  right  to  put  health 
and  life  in  jeopardy  by  interference  in  mat- 
ters which  concerned  other  persons  (from 
the  social  point  of  view  at  least)  more  nearly 
than  herself.  But  it  must  be  confessed  that 
Elinor  made  little  account  of  conscience 
when  conscience  came  in  collision  with  emo- 
tion. She  trusted  her  intuitions,  being  un- 
able to  believe  that  what  they  seemed  to 
justify  could  be  other  than  right;  and  a 
young  woman's  intuitions  are  simply  the 
voice  of  her  heart.  Elinor's  heart  would 
doubtless  never  suffer  her  to  do  anything 
unwomanly  or  base,  however  far  it  might 
occasionally  lead  her  from  the  path  of  or- 
thodox morality;  but  her  example  is  none 
the  less  indefensible,  until  all  young  women 
shall  have  hearts  as  pure  and  upright  as  hers, 
and  a  great  deal  calmer  and  wiser. 

At  the  time  when  the  events  of  which 
this  history  treats  took  place,  the  disease 
called  typhoid  fever  was  popularly  believed 
to  be  contagious.  Probably  not  a  few  coun- 
try doctors,  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  were 
more  or  less  partakers  of  the  current  delu- 
sion, and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  un- 
professional persons  believed  in  it.  As  for 
Elinor,  she  never  entertained  a  doubt  upon 
the  subject;  indeed,  her  persuasion  as  to 
this  point  had  not  a  little  to  do  with  the 
strangely  gladsome  sense  of  exaltation  and 
relief  wherewith  she  had  embarked  on  her 
present  enterprise.  It  is  not  enough  to 
say  that  she  fancied  she  was  about  to  im- 
peril her  life;  it  must  be  added  that  she 
faced  the  supposed  danger  rather  as  courting 
than  braving  it.  During  her  dark  hours  we 
may  imagine  her  to  have  thought,  on  some 


girlish  insufficient  ground  or  other,  that  life 
was  not  so  desirable  a  thing  as  it  was  gener- 
ally credited  with  being.  When  such  a  no- 
tion had  once  gained  possession  of  her,  she 
would  not  be  long  without  an  occasion  for 
humoring  it.  Some  array  of  circumstances 
would  be  sure  to  arise — romantic,  pathetic, 
peculiar — fatally  enticing  her  to  take  her 
fate  in  her  own  hands,  and  seeming  to  jus- 
tify her  in  the  deed.  To  welcome  death, 
when  it  lies  in  the  path  of  love,  of  despair, 
or  of  womanly  self-devotion,  is  not  the  in- 
firmity of  ignoble  minds ;  the  subtile  selfish- 
ness and  irreverence  which  underlie  it  escape 
the  eye  of  the  person  most  concerned, 
though  they  be  revealed  to  the  disinterested 
critic.  And  Providence,  being  perhaps  as 
wise  and  just  as  most  of  us,  may  sometimes 
take  such  wanderers  under  its  especial  pro- 
tection, and  either  forgive  their  error  or 
gently  prevent  their  attainment  of  the  end  at 
which  they  so  crudely  aimed. 

It  was  scarcely  ten  o'clock  when  Elinor 
set  her  slim  foot  upon  the  threshold-stone 
of  Urmhurst,  and  knocked  at  the  great 
green  door.  Upon  twice  repeating  the  sum- 
mons, and  obtaining  no  response  from  with- 
in, she  turned  the  latch  and  stepped  into 
the  broad,  dark  hall.  The  kitchen-door  was 
ajar,  and,  peeping  through,  she  saw  a  fire 
burning  in  the  fireplace,  and  for  a  moment 
fancied  she  heard  a  step  in  the  passage-way 
at  the  farther  extremity  of  the  great  room  ; 
but,  after  listening  awhile  in  vain  for  any 
repetition  of  the  sound,  or  for  any  other 
signs  of  a  human  being,  she  went  up-stairs 
without  further  ceremony.  It  was  not  until 
she  had  reached  the  upper  floor  that  she  met 
Nikomis,  coming  out  of  Cuthbert's  chamber. 

The  old  Indian's  face  was  as  inscrutable 
as  usual,  but  she  stopped  short  on  seeing 
Elinor,  and  uttered  a  grunt  of  inquiry.  She 
had  evidently  expected  to  meet  some  one 
else,  and  waited  for  an  explanation.  Elinor, 
who  had  never  felt  so  serenely  uplifted  in 
spirit  as  now,  or  so  instinct  with  all  the 
tender  potency  of  womanhood,  spoke  briefly 
of  Mrs.  Tenterden's  indisposition,  and  of  her 
own  purpose  to  take  that  lady's  place  for 
the  time  being.  "  Is  Mr.  Urmson  with  his 
son?"  she  added.  "I  should  like  to  see 
him  first." 


A  SOPHIST. 


189 


Nikomis  fixed  her  small  black  eyes  upon 
the  girl,  as  if  to  find  out  what  sort  of  stuff  she 
was  made  of;  and  Elinor  met  her  glance  with 
an  inspiration  of  curiosity  on  her  own  part. 
These  two  women,  though  they  had  often 
before  been  in  each  other's  company,  had 
never  till  now  happened  to  think  of  taking 
each  other's  measure.  But  at  a  moment 
like  this  some  such  mutual  inspection  was 
natural  and  inevitable.  Are  you  like  me, 
or  different  from  me  ?  Have  you  good  for 
my  good,  or  evil  for  my  evil  ?  These  are 
the  unspoken  questions  which  eye  asks  of 
eye.  Persons  of  the  same  race  and  general 
condition  may  read  the  answers  with  com- 
paratively little  difficulty ;  but,  when  the 
new  comes  in  contact  with  the  old,  the  in- 
vader with  the  aboriginal,  civilization  with 
savagery,  then  does  the  inquiry  become 
complicated. 

The  Indian  might,  indeed,  perceive  at 
the  first  glance  that  Elinor  was  of  a  refined 
and  straightforward  nature  ;  but  she  would 
wish  to  probe  her  more  deeply  than  this 
before  admitting  her  to  favor  and  confi- 
dence. Elinor,  howeyer.  had  in  Nikomis  a 
problem  that  might  have  posed  anybody. 

"  Cuthbert  very  bad,"  said  the  old  witch, 
in  answer  to  Elinor's  inquiry.  "  You  can 
see  him  'f  you  like — in  there."  She  mo- 
tioned with  her  head  toward  the  chamber. 

Elinor  passed  before  her  and  went  in. 
A  slender,  gray-haired  figure  in  a  brown 
dressing-gown  was  lying  on  the  bed,  with 
one  hand  over  its  breast,  its  eyes  closed, 
and  its  face  entirely  colorless.  Elinor  went 
close  up  to  it,  but  could  perceive  no  motion 
or  sign  of  life.  There  was  a  peculiar,  faint 
odor  in  the  room,  which  the  young  lady 
instinctively  disliked  to  breathe.  After  a 
few  moments  a  tingling,  numbing  sensation 
seemed  to  creep  through  her  body  from 
head  to  foot,  and  she  felt,  with  a  fluttering 
of  the  heart,  that  the  form  which  she  looked 
upon  would  not  respond  were  she  to  touch 
or  speak  to  it.  She  stilled  her  own  breath- 
ing in  order  to  see  whether  the  body 
breathed  ;  but  it  lay  awfully  still.  She  now 
became  aware  that  Nikomis  was  standing 
just  behind  her,  and,  with  a  shock,  the 
thought  entered  her  mind  that  perhaps  this 
grim,  inscrutable  old  savage  had  dealt  foully 


with  the  lives  committed  to  her  charge. 
She  recollected  hearing  certain  things  from 
time  to  time  about  Nikomis,  which  hitherto 
she  had  disregarded  or  taken  in  jest,  but 
which  now  sharpened  her  suspicions.  It 
seemed  more  than  probable  that  Nikomis 
had  had  motives  to  crime,  and  had  waited 
so  many  years  only  for  fit  opportunity : 
and  what  opportunity  could  have  been  more 
fitting  than  this  ?  The  horror  of  the  situa- 
tion so  wrought  upon  Elinor  as  to  lift  her 
above  the  region  of  selfish  fear.  She  did 
not  think  of  herself  at  all,  save  as  a  voice 
and  instrument  of  retribution.  She  looked 
round  upon  Nikomis,  who  stood  dark  and 
portentous  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  grasped  with  one  hand  the 
sleeve  of  the  prostrate  figure's  garment,  &s 
though  at  once  protecting  and  seeking  pro- 
tection from  the  dead. 

"  Have  you  done  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  Indian's  eyes  glittered,  and  she 
threw  up  one  arm  above  her  head :  there 
was  in  the  gesture  a  revelation  of  savage 
and  untamed  power.  The  wild,  lawless 
strain,  usually  concealed  beneath  her  stoical 
exterior,  seemed  now  on  the  verge  of  break- 
ing forth.  The  furrows  about  her  mouth 
and  forehead,  and  the  harsh,  stern  features, 
bore  witness  to  the  cruel  and  inhuman  deeds 
told  of  her  race. 

"What  you  do  here?"  she  demanded, 
in  an  imperious,  guttural  voice.  "  Nikomis 
belong  here.  Garth,  Cuthbert,  Urmhurst — 
all  mine." 

"  They  are  not  yours.  They  are  mine — 
for  I  love  them ! "  Elinor  exclaimed,  her 
slender  figure  seeming  for  the  moment  to 
dilate  and  heighten.  She  wore  an  expres- 
sion impressive  to  see  on  the  face  of  a  girl. 
Suddenly,  she  came  forward  and  stood  so 
close  to  the  Indian  as  almost  to  touch  her. 
The  latter's  eyes  blinked  under  so  near  and 
passionate  a  scrutiny.  Some  time  passed — 
it  might  have  been  half  a  minute — before 
Elinor  spoke,  in  a  new  tone,  from  which 
the  unnatural  huskiness  had  vanished. 
"  You  were  not  so  wicked — you  have  not 
done  it,"  she  said. 

Nikomis  made  no  reply. 

But  Elinor  returned  to  Cathbert,  and, 
bending  over  him,  laid  her  delicate  cheek 


190 


GARTH. 


beside  his.  It  was  not  so  warm  as  her  own, 
but  it  was  not  cold ;  and  presently  a  barely 
perceptible  movement  of  breath  whispered 
past  her  ear.  She  rose,  smiling  and  tremu- 
lous from  the  recoil  of  passion.  "  O  Ni- 
komis,  he  isn't  dead,"  said  she.  <k  What  is 
it  ? — you  have  given  him  an  opiate  to  make 
him  sleep !  I  am  -always  distrusting  and 
wronging  people."  She  spoke  with  her 
eyes  full  of  tears. 

Nikomis  turned  sullenly  away.  Did  the 
strange  old  creature  really  half  regret  not 
having  been  so  criminally  revengeful  as 
Elinor  had  fancied  her  ?  Certainly,  if  she 
had  come  to  Urmhurst  with  the  intention 
of  paying  off  on  its  occupants  the  ancient 
grudge  of  her  tribe,  she  had  good  grounds 
for  feeling  dissatisfied  with  herself.  As  an 
Indian,  the  inheritor  of  a  traditional  policy 
of  retribution,  she  had  not  acted  up  to  what 
was  expected  of  her ;  and  she  was  not  to 
be  consoled  by  imputations  of  charity  and 
forgiveness.  Elinor's  suspicion  had  per- 
haps suggested  to  her  the  idea  of  masquer- 
ading for  a  while  in  the  guise  of  a  wicked- 
ness not  actually  her  own,  and  thus  stealing 
credit  for  that  which  she  had  lacked  gall  to 
make  a  reality. 

The  girl  now  took  up  her  violin  and  bow, 
which  she  had  put  down  on  the  bed,  and 
repaired  to  Garth's  chamber.  There  lay  he 
with  whom  her  thoughts  had  dwelt  much 
of  late.  Mrs.  Tenterden's  account  of  him 
had  not  prepared  her  for  such  a  spectacle 
of  helplessness  and  decay.  A  feeling  of 
sharp  distress  made  her  month  quiver,  and 
contracted  the  lower  lids  of  her  eyes.  But, 
again,  he  was  alive,  and  evidently  had  re- 
ceived every  care  of  which  the  case  ad- 
mitted. The  bed  and  the  room  were  spot- 
lessly neat  and  fresh.  Garth  was  lying  with 
his  haggard  face  turned  sideways  on  the 
pillow,  his  eyes  dull  and  partly  closed,  an 
intermittent,  unintelligible  muttering  moving 
his  unshaven  lips.  The  fingers  of  one  hand 
were  fumbling  strengthlessly  at  a  gray  twist 
of  silky  material  which  tightly  encircled  his 
neck.  Elinor  knew  her  veil  at  once.  She 
drew  nearer,  and  stood  between  the  sick 
man  and  the  light ;  but  he  muttered  on  as 
before,  and  did  not  seem  to  notice  her. 

At  this  juncture  she  became  conscious 


of  a  profound  change  which  had  taken  place 
within  herself  during  the  last  few  minutes. 
She  had  set  out  for  Urmhurst  believing  that 
she  was  about  to  imperil  her  life,  and  mean- 
ing to  make  that  peril  as  inevitable  as  she 
might.  But  the  searching  though  rapid  ex- 
perience she  had  passed  through  since  her 
arrival  had  put  her  in  a  new  mood ;  and  she 
now  recognized  the  unworthiness  of  her  for- 
mer one.  She  had  pictured  herself  minis- 
tering to  Garth,  and  winning  him  back  to 
life  at  the  same  moment  that  she  herself 
declined  from  it.  "Whether  he  lived  or  died, 
life  would  be  equally  a  blank  to  her;  but 
she  could  imagine  a  happiness  in  dying  with 
the  thought  that  but  for  her  he  might  have 
died  also.  She  had  seen  herself  loosening 
the  veil  from  his  neck,  and  drawing  it,  poi- 
soned as  it  was,  across  her  face,  pressing  it 
to  her  lips,  and  at  night  folding  it  in  her 
bosom.  In  the  morning  she  would  awake 
to  a  dreamy  languor,  which  again  should 
lapse  into  the  fever  that  by  sure  and  fatal 
degrees  must  bring  her  toward  her  death. 
Each  friend  who  had  cared  for  her  should 
have  a  word — a  token  of  remembrance. 
Garth  Urmson  would  not  be  among  those 
friends;  but  Golightley  should  have  some- 
thing— her  violin,  perhaps — which  might  ut- 
ter to  his  ear  in  harmonious  chords  all  that 
its  mistress  would  fain  have  felt  for  him,  but 
could  not.  But  Garth  would  expect  nothing 
from  her;  he  did  not  care  for  her;  it  was 
with  a  quaint,  grave  pleasure  that  Elinor 
told  herself  this.  And  he  was  nothing  to 
her — save  in  so  far  as  he  had  made  all  other 
men  and  women  in  the  world  less  than  noth- 
ing. By  no  earthly  possibility  could  they 
ever  have  become  anything  to  each  other. 
Nevertheless,  she  had  learned  from  him  one 
thing — that  God  had  not  seen  fit  to  make 
the  man  with  whom  she  could  have  been 
happy.  For,  had  such  a  man  existed,  he 
would  have  looked  like  "Garth,  and  spoken 
as  he  did,  and  shown  like  traits  of  temper 
and  disposition;  and  still  would  have  been 
some  other  than  he.  But  since  it  was  evi- 
dent that  no  man  who  was  thus  at  once  Garth 
and  not  Garth  could  exist,  the  unavoidable 
inference  was  that  she,  Elinor,  was  out  of 
place  in  this  world.  They  were  nothing  to 
each  other;  yet  through  him  she  had  ac- 


A   SOPHIST. 


191 


quired  the  conception  of  an  ideal  man.  For 
that  she  thanked  him ;  and  was  content  to 
acknowledge  the  obligation  by  spending  a 
healing,  fatal  hour  at  his  bedside. 

To  some  such  effect  had  Elinor  com- 
muned with  herself  Avhile  on  the  way  to 
Urmhurst.  But,  since  entering  there,  her 
mind  was  changed.  She  had  till  then  viewed 
her  purpose  mainly  from  the  imaginative 
and,  as  it  were,  {esthetic  side ;  but  afterward 
she  had  found  herself  in  the  grasp  of  appall- 
ing realities.  She  had  been  made  to  know 
that  the  death  which  comes  not  in  the  strict 
course  of  nature  is  a  hateful  thing,  and  that 
those  who  inflict  it,  whether  upon  them- 
selves or  others,  are  abominable  before  God 
and  man.  Elinor  was  perhaps  more  apt 
than  the  generality  of  people  to  do  right 
when  once  she  had  clearly  convinced  her- 
self what  right  was.  She  perceived  that  the 
romantic  circumstances  wherewith  she  had 
ornamented  her  intention  were  a  mushroom 
growth  of  false  and  unwholesome  sentiment ; 
and,  when  these  were  stripped  away,  the 
thing  which  they  had  masked  stood  forth  in 
frank  and  naked  ugliness — cowardly  self- 
murder,  neither  more  nor  less.  Elinor 
blushed,  as  at  a  suggestion  immodest  and 
indelicate.  She  faced  life  again;  and  if  she 
saw  nothing  pleasanter  therein  than  here- 
tofore, she  had  at  least  the  sad  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  there  was  no  honorable 
alternative  against  it.  But,  indeed,  at  this 
moment,  by  a  kind  of  instinctive  wisdom, 
she  forbore  to  dwell  upon  the  future  at  all, 
and  looked  only  to  the  duties  immediately 
in  hand. 

The  situation  in  its  new  aspect  was  not 
without  its  perplexities;  for,  though  her 
mind  was  changed,  her  peril  from  the  sup- 
posed contagion  remained  unaltered,  or  near- 
ly so.  To  leave  the  house  without  having 
done  what  she  could  for  the  invalid  was  out 
of  the  question;  but,  though  she  might  take 
every  precaution,  only  the  mercy  of  Provi- 
dence could  secure  her  from  harm.  Think- 
ing this,  Elinor  was  moved  to  do  something 
which  not  every  young  lady  of  her  age  and 
experience  of  life  would  have  deemed  it 
worth  while  to  do.  She  left  the  bedside, 
and,  walking  to  the  window,  knelt  down 
there  and  clasped  her  hands  on  the  broad 


low  sill,  and  turned  her  face  toward  the 
cloud-flecked  sky,  as  a  child  might  have 
done;  for  there  was  a  precious  element  of 
childlikeness  at  the  core  of  her  grave,  re- 
served, and  haughty  appearance.  She  said 
no  words,  but  simply  opened  the  petals  of 
her  heart,  and  willed  that  the  living  God  in 
whom  she  believed  should  see  into  it,  and 
do  his  pleasure  with  her.  Anon  she  rose 
and  looked  round  with  a  downcast  timorous- 
ness  that  would  have  surprised  persons  who 
had  only  met  Miss  Golightley  in  society. 

But  no  one  had  seen  her,  and  in  a  few 
moments  she  took  her  place  in  the  world 
with  renewed  confidence.  The  dreamy  ex- 
altation of  the  earlier  morning  had  passed 
away ;  so,  too,  had  the  violent  revulsions  of 
feeling  which  had  followed  it;  and  now  she 
felt  both  inspired  and  practical,  as  those  do 
who  have  been  able  to  pray  earnestly  and 
unreservedly.  She  took  the  medicine-box, 
and  in  a  skillful  and  self-possessed  manner 
proceeded  to  administer  the  prescriptions, 
and  otherwise  carry  out  the  instructions 
which  the  doctor  had  given.  She  had  the 
power  of  self-concentration,  and  in  fact 
could  not  help  becoming  so  utterly  absorbed 
in  anything  that  interested  her  as  to  be 
blind,  deaf,  and  dumb,  for  the  time  being, 
to  everything  else.  It  would  have  charmed 
a  physician,  amused  Cuthbert,  and  scandal- 
ized Mrs.  Tenterden,  could  they  have  seen 
this  cold-mannered,  fastidious  young  lady 
busy  with  her  whole  soul  in  care  of  the  un- 
conscious invalid,  herself  more  unconscious 
than  he,  pink  and  serious  of  face,  light  and 
effective  of  hand.  She  did  not  remember 
Garth,  until  she  had  done  with  him.  Few 
men  (in  a  like  position)  could  so  completely 
have  sunk  the  what  they  were  in  what  they 
did. 

By-and-by  she  drew  breath  and  paused, 
and  the  patient  became  a  person  once  more. 
He  had  taken  his  treatment  so  unresistingly 
thus  far  that  Elinor  thought  she  might 
achieve  the  second  part  of  her  mission 
(which  was  to  relieve  him  of  that  silken 
necklace  that  he  had  come  by  so  unaccount- 
ably) as  readily  as  the  first.  Accordingly, 
though  now  with  some  little  hesitation  and 
shrinking,  because  the  wearer  of  the  neck- 
lace was  at  this  moment  less  a  convenient 


192 


GARTH. 


parcel  of  impersonal  symptoms  than  a  per- 
sonal and  inconvenient  Garth,  she  bent  over 
him  anew,  and  began  with  wariest  fingers 
to  search  for  the  knot.  But  immediately, 
and  as  if  he  had  known  what  was  intended, 
the  invalid  moaned  and  feebly  bestirred  him- 
self, obstructing  as  best  he  might  Elinor's 
already  timid  efforts.  She  was  not  long  in 
coming  to  the  conclusion  that  nothing  could 
be  done  while  he  remained  in  that  cross- 
grained  condition ;  but  neither  was  she  so 
infirm  of  purpose  as  to  yield  until  a  certain 
original  expedient  of  her  own  had  received 
fair  trial.  The  idea  might  or  might  not  be 
worth,  anything;  it  had  occurred  to  the 
young  musician  without  premeditation  just 
before  leaving  the  Danvers  cottage ;  at  all 
events,  she  was  disposed  to  put  faith  in  it. 
Should  it  succeed,  there  would  be  for  her  a 
poetical  beauty  in  the  success  which  would 
render  it  doubly  dear. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

A  QTJACK. 

SHE  took  her  violin  and  retired  again  to 
the  broad  window-sill;  for  Elinor  always 
liked  to  be  within  hail,  as  it  were,  of  the 
sky  when  she  was  doing  anything  that  in- 
volved the  deeper  energies  of  her  nature; 
and,  after  a  little  musing  over  the  strings, 
she  began  to  play.  At  first  she  kept  her 
eyes  toward  Garth,  to  mark  the  effect  upon 
him ;  but  as  the  music  grew  upon  her,  she  sur- 
rendered herself  to  it,  and  heeded  only  the 
harmonious  visions  which  her  bow  created. 
The  chamber  sang  with  wholesome  melody ; 
within  the  sphere  of  such  fresh  sounds  it 
seemed  impossible  that  any  wrong  or  infirm- 
ity should  exist.  The  discord  of  disease  must 
surely  be  silenced  and  brought  to  health  at 
the  command  of  chords  so  finely  potent  and 
inspiriting.  The  knotted  and  disordered 
fibres  must  relax  and  gently  reassume  their 
right  arrangement;  the  fever  and  the  an- 
guish must  slink  away,  powerless  to  hold 
out  against  the  sane  and  attempered  onset  of 
measured  strains  and  tuneful  cadences.  That 
which  is  beautiful,  in  a  word,  must  prevail 
over  that  which  is  opposed  to  beauty ;  and 


no  kind  of  beauty  so  inwardly  and  vigorously 
affects  the  condition  of  most  people  as  the 
beauty  of  sound.  Garth,  as  Elinor  knew, 
was  peculiarly  susceptible  to  musical  impres- 
sions, and  she  believed  it  within  her  power 
to  unlock  the  sinister  distemper  of  his  brain 
and  body  with  the  golden  keys  of  harmony. 
Possibly,  too,  she  counted  somewhat  upon  a 
vein  of  personal  sympathy  on  the  aesthetic 
side  between  her  and  him,  existing  despite 
their  incompatibility  at  other  points — a  sym- 
pathy enabling  her  to  choose  such  concords 
as  should  medicine  him  best,  and  him  to  em- 
ploy their  virtues  to  the  utmost.  A  person 
with  less  reverence  for  her  art  than  Elinor 
might  have  dallied  with  so  novel  a  project, 
but  would  have  lacked  the  childlike  confi- 
dence and  constancy  actually  to  attempt  it. 
To  Elinor,  however,  the  divine  efficacy  of 
music  was  not  questionable,  and,  if  she  felt  a 
doubt,  it  was  only  as  to  her  own  ability  to 
do  rightly  what  could  be  done. 

To  look  upon  music  as  one  of  the  healing 
arts,  if  it  be  a  heresy,  is,  after  all,  entitled  to 
respect  on  the  score  of  its  primitive  antiqui- 
ty ;  and  no  doubt  Elinor  was  quite  enough 
of  a  classical  scholar  to  have  read  the  story 
of  Orpheus,  and  drawn  her  own  conclusions 
from  it.  I  have  called  her  idea  original,  and 
in  its  practical  and  particular  application  it 
was  so;  but  most  probably  its  germs  had 
long  been  present  in  her  mind,  biding  their 
time  to  blossom  into  definite  form.  Is"or  can 
I  venture,  in  face  of  the  magic  doings  of 
modern  science,  to  deny  its  power  so  to  an- 
alyze disease  and  melody  as  to  match  one 
against  the  other  on  definite  fixed  principles, 
and  prescribe  precisely  the  sort  of  tune  most 
suitable  to  rheumatic  cases,  or  pronounce 
what  overture  or  symphony  should  be  ex- 
hibited to  sufferers  from  heart-disease  or 
consumption.  Beethoven,  Bach,  and  Men- 
delssohn, would  then  be  hailed  as  among  the 
great  physicians  of  humanity ;  every  doctor 
would  keep  his  violin  or  flute  in  the  same 
case  with  his  pills  and  ointment,  or  even 
exclude  the  latter  altogether;  and  medical 
students  would  divide  their  time  between 
thorough-bass,  pathology,  counterpoint,  and 
physiology.  Whether  or  not  this  dream  bo 
ever  realized,  to  Elinor  must  belong  the 
credit  of  having  been  bold  and  simple-heart- 


A   QUACK. 


193 


ed  enough  to  apply  the  theory  as  well  as  to 
believe  in  it,  without  waiting  for  the  tardy 
experiments  of  science.  Boldness  must  not 
be  left  out  of  the  account,  especially  if  we 
regard  the  matter  from  Elinor's  standpoint. 
Garth's  life  was  at  a  low  ebb,  and  whoever 
lield  the  opinion  that  the  right  music  would 
do  him  good,  must  also  accept  the  risk  of 
seeing  him  made  worse  by  a  wrong  selection 
or  a  false  accord.  Yet  Elinor's  only  guid- 
ance here  was  again  her  intuition. 

Of  false  accords  there  certainly  were 
none,  and  each  fresh  movement  seemed  to 
be  a  more  subtile,  persuasive,  and  unanswer- 
able argument  than  the  last,  to  forsake  sick- 
ness and  become  sound  and  whole.  Not  a 
mere  argument  either,  but  a  charm,  able  to 
effect  that  which  it  advocated.  As  she 
played  on,  feeling  herself  more  and  more  at 
one  with  her  instrument,  a  moment  came,  as 
once  before  at  the  picnic,  when  she  seemed 
to  herself  to  rise  above  the  crabbed  condi- 
tions of  flesh  and  blood,  and  to  address  Garth 
immediately,  in  a  comprehensive  and  trans- 
cendent utterance ;  and  he  and  she  seemed 
the  only  realities  in  a  world  of  shadows. 
With  this  fantasy  came  a  sense  of  the  inade- 
quacy of  any  hand-made  medium — even  of 
a,  violin — to  transmit  or  interpret  the  all  of 
what  she  meant ;  and  forthwith  she  relin- 
quished it,  as  one  forgets  a  thing  outgrown, 
and  merged,  like  a  blackbird  weary  of  its 
artificial  accomplishments,  into  a  full  tide  of 
native  song.  Now  at  last  she  knew  herself 
at  the  height  of  her  power,  and  did  not 
think  of  doubt  or  failure.  She  journeyed  on 
through  happy  realms  of  melody,  at  ease,  un- 
trammeled,  and  secure.  Garth  the  invalid, 
gaunt,  feverish,  and  feeble,  had  vanished 
from  her  apprehension ;  he  was  well  again, 
with  activities  and  capacities  larger  than  be- 
fore, at  once  the  reader  and  the  inspirer  of 
her  harmonies.  Perhaps  it  is  unwise  to  at- 
tempt to  paraphrase  in  words  the  strange, 
unconditional  vagaries  of  a  young  woman's 
musical  ecstasy.  The  best  success  can  be 
but  an  obscure  suggestion,  which  the  chari- 
table imagination  of  some  few  of  the  initiates 
may  enable  them  to  supplement.  Be  it 
rather  said  in  simplest  speech,  therefore, 
that  Elinor  sang  her  fill,  and  stopped :  and 
suddenly  the  ecstasy  was  gone,  and  the  room 
13 


and  the  invalid  and  the  singer  quivered  back 
like  a  smitten  harp-string  into  the  unrespon- 
sive, staid  rigidity  of  common  life.  The 
singer  slid  from  the  window-sill  to  her  feet, 
and  pressed  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  her 
temples,  as  though  bewilderment  were  throb- 
bing there.  Presently  she  looked  up,  smiled, 
sighed,  and  anon  slowly  approached  the  bed, 
with  a  shy  inspection  of  the  bony,  unshorn 
visage  that  was  reposing  on  the  pillow. 

Garth's. eyes  were  open,  and  for  the  first 
time  Elinor  saw  in  them  a  steady  and  intel- 
ligent light.  Decidedly  there  was  an  im- 
provement, though  whether  due  to  the  doc- 
tor's remedies  or  to  the  musician's,  the  latter 
troubled  not  herself  to  inquire.  She  stood 
still  for  a  minute  or  two  while  he  looked  at 
her  and  accustomed  himself  to  the  idea  of 
her  presence.  There  was  no  wonder  in  his 
regard — he  had  been  brought  too  near  the 
verge  of  life  for  that;  it  was  a  far-off  gaze 
of  solemn  contentment ;  hardly  the  gaze  of 
a  living,  material  man,  but  suggesting  the  no- 
tion that  a  departed  spirit  had  come  back  to 
earth  for  a  moment,  and  was  glancing  at  this 
life  through  the  windows  it  had  been  wont 
to  use  while  in  the  body.  Elinor  was  slow 
to  speak,  lest  it  should  vanish,  after  the 
manner  of  departed  spirits,  upon  being  ad- 
dressed. At  length,  however,  it  seemed 
natural  to  say,  in  a  subdued,  fluent  tone,  as 
though  they  had  previously  been  conversing 
together : 

"  You  will  feel  better  after  I  have  taken 
the  veil  off  your  throat." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  as  if  the  spirit 
were  essaying  to  incarnate  itself  once  more, 
and  found  some  difficulty  in  making  use  of 
its  fleshly  instrument.  Meantime  the  eyes 
kept  up  their  look  of  inaccessible,  contented 
gravity.  Finally,  after  a  trial  or  two,  the 
voice  came,  slow,  hushed,  and  intermittent : 

"Yes.  I — kept  it — for  you.  It — came 
back  to  me — in — my  dream." 

Elinor  also  waited  awhile  before  reply- 
ing, not  because  her  voice  was  sluggish,  but 
from  an  idea  that  such  a  leisurely  mode  of 
talk  would  best  suit  his  invalid  condition. 
"I  shall  have  to  cut  it,"  said  she.  "The 
knot  is  too  tight." 

She  felt  in  her  pocket  for  her  penknife, 
and  brought  out  along  with  it  a  pair  of 


194 


GARTH. 


gloves,  which,  mindful  of  her  new  purpose 
to  avoid  contagion  as  much  as  possible,  she 
proceeded  to  draw  on.  But  by  the  time 
she  was  ready,  Garth  had  found  his  tongue 
again.  "  No,"  said  he,  with  the  quiet,  un- 
reasoning perversity  of  a  helpless  man ; 
"  untie  it." 

Elinor  knew  better  than  to  argue  the 
point  with  him,  and  even  fancied  she 
understood  something  whimsically  compli- 
mentary to  herself  in  his  unwillingness  to 
let  her  veil  be  summarily  dealt  with.  She 
put  up  her  knife,  therefore,  and  set  to  work 
with  her  gloved  fingers  upon  the  compact 
intricacies  of  the  knot.  Neither  the  light 
nor  the  position  of  things  was  favorable, 
and  Elinor  labored  for  some  time,  bending 
down  her  pure  face  close  to  Garth's  without 
accomplishing  much.  All  the  while  she  was 
wondering  with  a  still  feeling  about  her 
heart,  whether  this  idle  whim  of  his  would 
cost  her  her  life,  and,  if  it  did,  what  he 
would  think  when  he  came  to  know  it. 
Garth,  for  his  part,  was  probably  too  near 
the  balancing-point  of  existence  to  feel  the 
same  sensations  as  he  would  have  felt  in 
health ;  but  the  nearness  of  that  face,  with 
its  lines  as  clear  as  flower-petals',  could  not 
but  have  been  grateful  to  him.  Meantime 
her  gloved  touch  was  doubtless  more  or  less 
objectionable  to  him,  and  had  speech  been 
easy  he  might  have  remonstrated.  As  it 
was,  he  lay  voiceless  and  motionless;  and 
when  at  last  Elinor  conquered  the  knot  and 
softly  drew  away  the  veil,  he  breathed  an 
infantile  sigh  of  satisfaction,  which  con- 
trasted comically  with  the  gaunt  ruggedness 
of  features  that  disease  had  made  to  look 
much  older  than  before.  His  glance  rested 
for  a  moment  on  the  veil,  which  Elinor  was 
now  holding  in  her  hands,  uncertain  what 
to  do  next;  then,  to  her  no  small  relief, 
his  eyelids  drooped  and  closed,  and  almost 
immediately  he  was  deeply  and  serenely 
asleep. 

She  walked  with  a  meditative  step  to  the 
window,  drawing  the  veil  backward  and 
forward  through  her  fingers,  and  then  un- 
folding it  to  its  full  breadth.  It  was  wofully 
creased  and  soiled,  and  there  were  half  a 
dozen  rents  in  it.  Needless  to  say,  it  could 
soever  be  presentable  as  a  veil  again.  Never- 


theless, Elinor  felt  a  strong,  unmanageable 
desire  to  keep  it,  to  treasure  it,  to  hide  it 
away  in  some  place  as  near  to  her  as  remote 
from  the  rest  of  the  world.  Her  former 
temptation  came  back  to  her,  somewhat 
modified  in  kind,  but  even  more  urgent  than 
at  first.  She  leaned  her  shoulder  and  head 
against  the  window-frame,  and  looked  out, 
folding  her  arms  and  crossing  one  foot  over 
the  other.  The  sun,  half-way  up  the  cold, 
blue  sky,  was  steering  his  course  through 
bevies  of  broken  clouds,  and  Elinor's  oddly 
attractive  countenance,  with  its  small  nose, 
low,  sharp-cut  brows,  high  cheek-bones,  and 
finely  resolute  mouth,  was  alternately  lighted 
and  shadowed  by  their  flight.  She  leaned 
there  many  minutes,  wholly  rapt  in  serious 
musings.  The  bleak,  wide  landscape  met 
her  eyes,  and  may  have  rhymed  with  her 
mood,  but  she  was  not  actively  aware  of  it. 
It  was  the  vision  of  her  future  that  pos- 
sessed her.  How  more  than  bleak  it  was! 
It  did  not  seem  possible  to  her,  as  a  modest 
and  honorable  girl,  to  fulfill  the  destiny  that 
awaited  her.  A  month  ago,  ignorant  of  her 
own  nature  and  capacities,  in  a  fit  of  cyn- 
ical, self -contemptuous  passion,  she  had 
pledged  her  word  and  surrendered  her  lips, 
and  had  felt  and  said,  "It  can  never  be  un- 
done." The  month — or  was  it  the  last  hour? 
— had  taught  her  so  much  that,  were  the 
past  revocable,  not  all  the  world  could  have 
prevailed  upon  her  so  to  dishonor  herself 
again.  But  now,  what  relief  was  there? 
Life  was  full  of  such  hasty  errors  and  late 
regrets.  If  it  were  unwomanly  to  submit, 
to  resist  was  despicable.  There  was  only 
one  escape,  but,  oh,  how  easy  and  alluring ! 
— wrong,  perhaps,  but  surely  there  were 
greater  wrongs.  "What  use  and  good  were 
there  in  death,  save  as  it  was  a  refuge  from 
life's  fatigue  and  bitterness?  Might  not 
one  say,  "  Let  it  come,''  and  yet  be  pardon- 
able ? 

7"~It  is  vain  to  seek  answers  to  these  argu- 
ments; they  are  based  upon  appearances, 
and  cannot  be  refuted  from  their  own  stand- 
point. Pagans  cannot  refute  them  at  all ; 
but,  fortunately  for  the  peace  of  Elinor's 
conscience,  if  not  for  the  health  of  her  body, 
she  was  not  a  pagan.  "When  she  had  reached 
this  crisis  in  her  meditations,  she  stood 


A  QUACK. 


195 


erect,  looking  up,  and  twisting  the  veil  into 
a  ball  between  her  hands.  Grasping  it 
tightly  in  one  slender  fist,  she  went  to  the 
fireplace  and  laid  it  carefully  on  the  red-hot 
centre  of  the  half-burned  log.  Afterward 
she  pulled  off  her  gloves  and  threw  them  in 
heedlessly  among  the  ashes.  She  did  not 
remain  to  watch  the  burning,  nor  stay  in 
the  room  at  all ;  but  with  a  glance  at  Garth 
to  assure  herself  that  he  was  still  sleeping, 
she  passed  out  of  the  door,  and,  with  the 
business-like  air  of  a  professional  nurse,  be- 
took herself  to  Mr.  Urmson's  chamber. 

He  was  lying  much  as  Elinor  had  left 
him;  but,  after  observing  him  for  a  while, 
she  was  of  opinion  that  the  effect  of  the 
opiate  was  wearing  off,  and  that  he  must 
soon  awake.  She  sat  down  beside  him  in  a 
low,  leather-covered  easy -chair,  leaning  back 
her  head  and  folding  her  hands  in  her  lap. 
Now  that  she  had  come  to  a  stopping-place 
in  her  morning's  labors,  she  began  to  realize 
how  greatly  they  had  exhausted  her.  Her 
body  felt  as  weary  as  her  mind ;  but  the  fa- 
tigue was  not  of  a  painful  sort,  but  such  as 
made  repose  a  luxury.  She  wished  she 
might  sit  in  that  comfortable  chair  for  a 
whole  year,  with  nothing  to  think  of,  and 
nothing  to  do. 

Had  she  been  in  a  less  worn-out  condi- 
tion, the  revelation  of  Mr.  Urmson's  ill  case 
must  have  kept  her  thoughts  busy.  She  had 
known  him  to  be  in  delicate  health,  but  had 
thought  of  nothing  worse  than  the  rheuma- 
tism, neuralgia,  and  dyspepsia,  to  which  any 
gentleman  of  his  age  and  habits  of  life  might 
be  subject.  His  habitually  composed  and 
cheerful  air  had  seemed  inconsistent  with 
the  presence  of  any  acute  disease ;  and  Eli- 
nor, in  common  with  most  other  people, 
had  too  much  enjoyed  the  playful  humor, 
which  derived  an  added  charm  from  his 
bodily  frailty,  to  ask  much  about  his  com- 
plaints. But  as  he  now  lay  pallid  and  un- 
conscious, without  the  power  to  beguile  or 
parry  the  observer's  eye,  the  lines  of  suffer- 
ing worn  into  his  face  showed  very  distinct, 
and  the  fact  that  they  could  ever  have  been 
kept  in  the  background  seemed  more  than 
ever  strange.  Elinor  contemplated  the  re- 
fined, sharp-featured  visage  in  a  fit  of  dreamy 
preoccupation ;  but  at  length  it  occurred  to 


her  that  a  person  so  reserved  as  was  this 
gentleman,  and  so  sensitive  to  scrutiny, 
would  be  sadly  discomposed  at  the  idea  of 
being  stared  at  when  the  veil  of  his  volun- 
tary self-control .  was  withdrawn.  There- 
fore she  chivalrously  closed  her  eyes;  and 
with  the  purpose  in  her  mind  to  have  an  ex- 
planation with  Mr.  Urmson,  so  soon  as  ho 
should  awake,  touching  the  nature  of  his 
malady,  she  quietly  dropped  asleep.  Thus 
it  happened  that,  in  spite  of  the  trouble 
which  seemed  a  while  ago  so  dominant  at 
Urmhurst,  a  stranger  entering  unheralded 
would  have  been  first  of  all  struck  by  the 
prevalent  tranquillity. 

Minute  after  minute  passed  away,  how- 
ever, without  the  stranger  making  his  ap- 
pearance. Garth,  in  his  chamber,  was 
breathing  his  prosperous  way  through  the 
first  refreshing  slumber  that  had  come  to 
him  since  the  beginning  of  his  illness. 
Cuthbert,  by  an  occasional  movement  of  the 
mouth  and  eyelids,  or  a  slight  change  of 
posture,  showed  that  ere  long  he  would 
emerge  from  his  stupor ;  but  Elinor,  whose 
face  had  the  rare  charm  of  looking  more 
lovely  in  sleep  than  in  awakening,  dreamed 
as  sweetly  and  profoundly  as  a  baby  in  its 
cradle.  These  three  might  have  passed  for 
the  sole  occupants  of  the  house.  Nikomis, 
if  she  were  within-doors  at  all,  must  have 
retired  to  her  den  in  the  garret ;  and  we 
have  no  warrant  for  supposing  the  presence 
of  any  other  person  besides  her.  Neverthe- 
less, had  one  of  the  three  sleepers  happened 
to  wake  up  and  listen  intently,  a  dull,  inter- 
mittent sound  might  have  been  heard,  as  of 
voices  conversing  together  in  some  corner 
remote  from  intrusion.  Voices,  was  it  ?  and 
not  rather  Nikomis  humming  to  herself  the 
burden  of  an  Indian  chant?  or  even  the 
wind  rumbling  in  the  chimney  and  sighing 
hoarsely  in  the  attic  overhead  ? 

However  that  might  be,  at  all  events 
there  were  none  to  listen.  Sleep,  which  has 
something  sacred  in  it,  and  through  which 
mankind  pass  from  one  day  to  another,  and 
from  the  old  to  the  new,  and  from  darkness 
into  light,  and  from  weariness  to  refresh- 
ment— sleep  brooded  over  these  three  har- 
assed persons,  and  perhaps  brought  them 
visions  of  a  serener  state  of  things  to  come. 


196 


GARTH. 


So  sound  was  their  repose,  it  would  have 
needed  more  than  a  distant  murmur  of 
voices,  or  the  complaining  of  the  wind,  to 
have  aroused  the  least  rapt  among  them. 
They  had  surrendered  their  own  self- 
guardianship,  and  lay  helpless  and  exposed 
to  whatever  danger  menaced  them.  But 
angels,  it  has  been  said,  watch  with  especial 
jealousy  over  those  who  sleep,  and  perhaps 
the  most  fortunate  thing  that  can  happen 
to  the  unfortunate  is  to  sink  down  in  un- 
conscious slumber  at  the  moment  when  they 
have  done  whatever  they  could  do,  in  vain. 
The  sun  had  passed  the  highest  point 
that  he  would  attain  that  day,  before  this 
peaceful  condition  of  affairs  seemed  likely 
to  be  disturbed.  But  soon  after  noon  there 
was  an  alert,  firm  step  upon  the  threshold 
of  Urmhurst,  and  a  brisk  knocking  at  the 
door.  The  knock,  like  Elinor's  earlier  in 
the  day,  was  unanswered,  though  the  mur- 
murs of  the  wind  in  the  chimney  seemed  to 
have  been  startled  into  silence  by  it.  Like 
hers,  it  was  presently  repeated,  more  em- 
phatically than  at  first ;  but,  albeit  the 
sharp  echoes  traveled  through  the  old  house 
from  top  to  bottom,  visiting  every  darksome 
nook  and  corner,  and  even  finding  their  way 
into  Garth's  long-neglected  studio,  where 
the  tragic  picture  of  Lady  Eleanor's  wedding 
stood  dusty  on  the  easel,  no  one  came  for- 
ward to  open  the  door  and  give  the  visitor, 
whoever  he  might  be,  a  hospitable  Urmson 
welcome.  Cuthbert,  indeed,  sighed  uneasily, 
and  half  opened  his  eyes  for  a  moment ;  but 
no  one  else  stirred ;  and  Nikomis,  if  she 
were  not  asleep  as  well  as  the  rest,  was 
strangely  neglectful  of  her  duties.  By-and- 
by  the  visitor,  who  seemed  to  be  of  a  bold 
and  impatient  disposition,  threw  the  door 
open,  entered,  and  closed  it  again  with  a  re- 
verberating bang.  He  paused  a  moment  in 
the  hall,  and  then  began  an  exploration  of 
the  rooms  on  the  lower  floor.  Finding 
nothing  there,  he  bounded  up-stairs  with 
the  light  activity  of  youth,  and,  after  an- 
other short  pause  at  the  top  to  listen,  he 
turned  to  the  right,  and  walked  directly 
into  the  room  where  Mr.  Urmson  and  Elinor 
were  reposing. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

AWAKENIXG. 

ON  seeing  the  sleepers  the  young  stran- 
ger doffed  his  hat,  and  holding  it  against  his 
hip,  stopped  short,  and  ejaculated  below  his 
breath,  "  Deuce !  "  Presently  he  came  for- 
ward, stepping  lightly,  a  rather  quizzical 
smile  stirring  the  corners  of  his  golden- 
brown  mustache.  He  halted  again  in  front 
of  Elinor's  chair,  and  looked  down  upon  her 
with  the  full  glance  of  a  pair  of  bright  hazel 
eyes.  His  smile  gradually  forgot  itself  in  a 
more  tender  and  wistful  expression.  Then 
a  sudden  resolve  flashed  into  his  face;  he 
stooped  quickly  but  gently,  and,  for  half  an 
instant,  his  mustache  touched  a  little  brown 
mole  upon  the  upper  part  of  the  young  lady's 
else  immaculate  cheek.  She  received  the 
salute  with  disconcerting  equanimity.  Had 
her  admirer  been  a  fly  she  could  not  more 
superbly  have  ignored  the  liberty.  Her 
serene  eyelids  quivered  not,  nor  did  the 
faint  color  deepen  in  her  face.  Indeed,  the 
young  man  looked  much  the  more  disturbed 
of  the  two. 

"•  It  was  a  devilish  contemptible  action !  " 
he  murmured  to  himself.  "  By  the  saints, 
though,  I've  a  mind  to  do  it  again !  " 

But  a  low  voice  behind  him  said,  "Wait, 
young  gentleman.  That  lady  is  private 
property." 

He  turned  with  a  start.  Mr.  Urmson 
was  awake,  and  was  eying  him  with  an 
aspect  partaking,  after  all,  rather  of  per- 
plexity and  inquiry  than  of  severity.  The 
stranger  immediately  approached  the  bed- 
side, and  took  the  elder's  thin  hand  in  his 
own  warm,  white  one.  "  Selwyn — you  re- 
member me? — old  Garth's  Jack,"  said  he, 
speaking  with  a  touch  of  embarrassment, 
but  frankly  and  heartily.  "  I  took  this  for 
the  Sleeping  Palace  in  the  fairy-book ;  and 
when  I  came  on  the  Beauty  here,  I  imagined 
myself  the  Prince,  predestined,  you  know — 
But  something  must  be  the  matter,  Mr.  Unn- 
son?  Anybody  ill?" 

"  Garth  is  ill,"  replied  the  other,  raising 
himself  on  his  elbow  and  drawing  his  brows 
together  in  the  effort  to  collect  his  ideas. 
"  You  haven't  seen  Mrs.  Tenterclen  ?  How 


AWAKENING. 


197 


long  has —    Do  you  know  how  this  young 
lady  came  to  be  here  ? " 

"  My  good  luck  must  have  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  bringing  her,  I  should 
think ;  but  doesn't  she  belong  here  ?  I 
lauded  in  Boston  only  day  before  yesterday, 
and  came  right  on.  Seen  nobody  but  you, 
and  know  nothing.  Old  Garth — he  ill !  " 

"  I'm  afraid  Nikomis  has  been  giving  me 
one  of  her  famous  herbal  distillations,"  said 
Mr.  Urmson.  "Excuse  my  not  sitting  up 
just  yet — I'm  none  the  less  glad  to  see  you, 
Jack.  What's  the  news  ?  You  look  well ; 
growing  older  seems  to  have  done  you  more 
good  than  it  has  the  rest  of  us.  Garth  got 
your  letter;  but  he  lost  it  again  the  same 
day,  'and  has  had  typhoid  ever  since." 

"Devil!  "  rejoined  Selwyn,  sympatheti- 
cally. "  And  you  and  Mrs.  Mildred  been 
nursing  him  ?  Poor  old  genius!  Don't  you 
think,  though,  he  needed  something  of  the 
sort  to  thin  him  a  little  ?  he  was  such  an 
infernally  heavy  lump,  mind  and  body,  he 
couldn't  budge  himself  nor  be  budged.  Ter- 
rible fellow  for  slumping  into  holes  and 
crawling  in  grooves !  But  about  the  letter, 
Mr.  Urmson,"  continued  the  young  man, 
drawing  a  chair  to  the  bedside  and  seat- 
ing himself.  "  Garth  read  it  you,  didn't 
he  ?  " 

"Suppose  you  turn  your  back  to  Miss 
Golightley;  you'll  be  less  apt  to  awaken 
her,"  said  Mr.  Urmson,  a  little  maliciously. 
"  Besides,  I  want  to  look  at  you,  Jack.  So 
you  are  turned  detective  ?  Speak  low." 

"  I  like  to  match  my  head  against  a  clev- 
er rogue's ;  but —  Oh,  I'm  no  detective  my- 
self. I  hit  upon  a  lucky  suggestion  or  two 
that  put  my  dogs  on  the  scent,  but — " 

"  Why,  what  was  it  to  you  whether  Mrs. 
Tenterden  got  back  her  money  or  not  ?  " 

Jack  dropped  his  eyes  with  a  half-smile, 
but  raised  them  again  immediately.  "  If 
you  hadn't  waked  up  just  when  you  did,  I 
might  have  lied  to  you  about  that,"  said  he. 
"Well;  I  may  never  be  able  to  kiss  her 
again ;  but  I  shouldn't  have  done  it  at  all  if 
I  hadn't  meant  to  try  and  get  leave  to  do  it 
all  the  rest  of  my  life,  Mr.  Urmson." 

"  In  that  fairy-tale,  if  I  remember  aright, 
the  Beauty  was  awakened  by  the  kiss  of  the 
true  Prince.  Miss  Golightley  seems  to  be 


still  asleep.    I  fear  the  omen's  a  bad  one  for 
you." 

"  Omens  be  damned  ! — or  no,  I  beg  par- 
don ;  been  trying  to  break  myself  of  that 
habit  since —  I'll  risk  my  chance  with  the 
other  fellows." 

"  She  is  already  engaged  to  be  married," 
Mr.  Urmson  continued. 

Selwyn's  face  seemed  to  grow  older ;  he 
leaned  forward  on  his  knee,  biting  his  lip  ; 
took  his  breath  to  speak,  but  let  it  forth 
again  in  a  short  sigh.  "  Garth,  I  suppose," 
he  said  at  length.  "Dear  old  fellow,  I'm 
glad  it's  he !  " 

"  It's  a  yet  more  eligible  match  than  that 
— Mr.  Golightley  Urmson." 

The  blood  flew  into  the  young  man's  face, 
and  he  sat  up  erect,  as  if  he  had  been  pricked 
with  a  lancet.  "  Then,"  exclaimed  he,  smit- 
ing his  knee  with  his  clinched  hand,  he'll 
never  marry  her !  " 

"Why  not?"  inquired  Mr.  Urmson, 
gravely.  Jack  was  forced  to  recollect  him- 
self. 

"  That's  the  second  time  you've  seen  me 
make  a  fool  of  myself.  I  had  no  business 
to  make  any  such  assertion.  I  don't  happen 
to  like  your  brother — your  half-brother,  Mr. 
Urmson.  Miss  Golightley  will  marry  whom 
she  likes,  of  course.  Well,  I'm  glad  I  didn't 
know  it  before.  Are  you  fond  of  your  half- 
brother?" 

"  Why,  I  wish  him  well.  We  have  al- 
ways been  on  the  best  terms." 

"  He's  staying  with  you,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  He  took  a  room  in  the  village  while 
Garth  is  ill.  At  present  he's  in  Brunswick, 
to  get  an  old  acquaintance  of  yours,  Pro- 
fessor Grindle,  down  here." 

"  Old  Grindle — how  he  used  to  '  dead  ' 
me !  But  he'll  put  life  into  Garth,  if  any- 
body can.  But  Garth's  not  one  of  the  dying 
kind ;  he'll  live  till  he's  tired  of  it.  I  want 
to  see  him.  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  was  in  this  world  at  five  o'clock  this 
morning;  but  his  stay  seems  rather  uncer- 
tain, in  spite  of  what  you  say,  Jack.  We'll 
go  in  as  soon  as  I  get  my  house-legs  on  again. 
If  you  have  any  business  to  talk,  though,  you 
had  better  trust  me.  Garth  has  been  deliri- 
ous for  the  last  two  or  three  weeks." 

"Poor  old   Garth — dear  fellow!     I  do 


198 


GAKTH. 


hope  he  won't  die,  Mr.  Urmson,"  said  Jack, 
his  voice  husky  with  earnestness,  and  his 
sensitive  face  darkening.  "  I'm  just  like  a 
woman  about  him- -always  have  been  since 
a  shaking  he  gave  me  in  college.  But  I  know 
he  won't  die.  Think  of  having  her  to  take 
care  of  him  !  By — Jove,  if  I  were  Golight- 
ley,  I'd  keep  her  out  of  the  way !  Unless — 
Is  that  Danver  affair  on  still  ? " 

"It  was  when  he  caught  the  fever,  I  be- 
lieve; but  the  shadow  of  death  may  hold 
such  matters  in  abeyance  for  a  while,"  an- 
swered Mr.  Urmson,  with  the  glimmer  of  a 
smile.  "  Yes,  Jack,  if  you  came  here  for 
love,  methinks  you  are  too  late." 

Jack  tossed  his  head.  "  Well,  business 
first,  and  love  afterward,  Mr.  Urmson.  I 
haven't  told  you  about  our  success  with  the 
thieves.  To  begin  with,  we  haven't  got 
either  of  them,  and  we  have  found  out  that 
one  of  them  has  spent  most  of  his  share  of 
the  money." 

"  Oh  !  then  there  are  two  of  them  ?  Do 
you  know  who  they  are  ?  " 

u  We  know  who  one  of  them  is,  and  I 
have  my  suspicions  of  the  other,  though  my 
detectives  don't  know  that  I  have  yet.  We 
followed  the  first  one  to  Liverpool,  and  there 
lost  sight  of  him.  His  name  is  Flint.  We 
are  pretty  sure  of  coming  upon  him  sooner 
or  later,  and  then  he  will  tell  us  how  to  get 
hold  of  the  other  one,  who  is  the  chief  sin- 
ner, and  an  infernally  clever  fellow.  The 
way  they  contrived  the  robbery  it  was  al- 
most worth  the  money  they  stole  to  see. 
And  the  other  one  managed  so  well  that 
nothing  short  of  Flint's  evidence  could  con- 
vict him,  even  if  we  caught  him." 

"  Who  do  you  suspect  him  to  be,  Jack?  " 
asked  Mr.  Urmson,  taking  pains  to  meet  the 
young  man's  eyes  with  his  own  penetrating 
glance.  "  From  your  letter,  it  should  be 
some  one  in  this  neighborhood.  Is  it  any 
one  I  am  likely  to  know  ?  " 

Selwyn  caught  up  his  knee  and  set  his 
hat  upon  it ;  the  hat  fell  to  the  floor,  and  he 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  "  Knowing  is  an  am- 
biguous expression,"  said  he,  with  a  smile. 
"  You  might  think  you  knew  him,  but,  if  he 
turned  out  a  thief,  you'd  think  yon  hadn't 
known  him,  after  all.  Anyway,  though,  it 
would  be  unbusiness-like  of  me  to  blab  my 


suspicions.     They  might  be  wrong,  in  the 
first  place." 

"But  that's  too  unlikely  a  supposition, 
Jack.  What  in  the  second  place  ?  " 

"You  might  receive  and  comfort  him, 
Mr.  Urmson,"  returned  the  other,  smiling 
again.  "You'd  do  that  for  a  near  friend  or 
relative,  wouldn't  you  ?  Most  men  would." 

"  I  am  not  a  bigot  in  the  cause  of  human 
methods  of  justice,"  said  the  gray  gentle- 
man, holding  his  chin  musingly  between  his 
thumb  and  forefinger.  "  I  should  probably 
let  my  action  be  guided  a  good  deal  by  cir- 
cumstances. However,  your  second  sup- 
position doesn't  apply,  either ;  for  the  only 
man  of  the  kind  for  me  is  that  poor  half- 
brother  of  mine — your  successful  rival,  young 
gentleman.  He  has  lately  been  in  Europe, 
you  know,  and  has  come  back  with  some 
money.  But  a  thief  who  should  rob  a  lady 
for  the  sake  of  making  himself  an  eligible 
match  for  her  would  be  sui  generis,  to  say 
the  least  of  him." 

"Well,  I  shall  hold  my  tongue,  or  you 
will  begin  to  think  me  a  poor  detective.  If 
Golightley  is  to  be  the  first  villain,  you'll  say 
nobody  short  of  Garth  ought  to  play  second. 
But,  joking  aside,  I  don't  believe  she  can 
love  him ;  and  when  it  comes  to  the  point, 
she  won't  marry  a  fellow  she  doesn't  love." 
As  Jack  made  this  assertion,  he  caught  a 
peculiar  expression  in  Mr.  Urmson's  face, 
such  as  caused  him  to  turn  abruptly  in  his 
chair.  Elinor  was  still  reclining  in  the  same 
position,  with  her  hands  clasped  in  her  lap, 
but  her  eyelids  were  unmistakably  open, 
though  still  heavy  with  slumber.  Jack  rose 
at  once  and  made  his  bow.  His  bow  was 
somewhat  noted  in  society  for  its  easy  grace, 
but  this  time  it  scarcely  justified  its  reputa- 
tion. His  self-possession  was  impaired  by 
the  necessity  for  wondering  how  much  of 
the  late  conversation  the  young  lady  had 
overheard,  and  by  the  attempt  to  recollect 
precisely  in  what  words  it  had  been  couched. 

"  I  only  came  in  to  tell  you  he  was  bet- 
ter, Mr.  Urmson,"  said  Elinor,  sitting  up 
and  putting  her  hands  to  her  hair.  "  I  didn't 
know  you  were  busy. — Mr.  Selwyn!  oh,  I 
think  I  must  have  been  asleep." 

"  It  was  my  cursed  bellowing  waked  you 
up  ;  though  I  thought  we  were  whispering," 


AWAKENING. 


199 


Jack  interposed  regretfully.  "  Is — a — Mrs. 
Tenterdcn  well,  I  hope?  " 

"Oh,  not  at  all!  I  left  him  asleep — 
Yes,  she  felt  a  little  feverish  this  morning, 
so  I  came  up  with  the  medicine. — I  hope  my 
playing  didn't  disturb  you,  Mr.  Urmson?  " 

"  That  spell  which  Nikomis  wrought  on 
me  has  left  its  influence  in  the  air,  I  think," 
said  he,  looking  pleasantly  on  the  young 
lady's  face,  and  making  a  determined  effort 
to  get  up.  "Everything  you  do  and  say  is 
music,  Miss  Elinor,  and  would  cure  me  of 
being  old  and  good-for-nothing,  if  anything 
could.  As  for  Garth,  I  don't  wonder  that 
he's  better.  Come  on ;  let's  all  go  in  and 
have  a  look  at  him." 

As  he  stood  erect,  the  young  people  placed 
themselves  on  either  side  of  him,  each  sup- 
porting an  arm ;  and  so  they  advanced,  a 
well-united  trio,  toward  the  door.  But  at 
the  same  moment  a  lightsome  step  sounded 
along  the  passage-way,  and  a  charming  figure 
of  womanly  youth  and  grace,  with  high  color 
and  sparkling  eyes,  appeared  at  the  threshold. 
The  trio  paused  with  one  accord ;  but  the 
new-comer,  after  a  brief  hesitation,  just  long 
enough  to  give  the  beauty  of  her  presence 
its  full  effect,  came  straight  up  to  Mr.  Urm- 
son and  kissed  him  on  the  cheek.  Elinor 
looked  hard  at  her,  and  did  not  offer  any 
greeting ;  but  the  other  took  her  hand  with 
a  kind  of  joyous  freedom,  and  said :  "  You 
dear  Elinor,  I've  seen  him  !  I  dared  come, 
because  Mrs.  Tenterden's  in  bed,  and  is  not 
to  know.  How  thin  he  is!  but  I  like  his 
beard — it  looks  like  a  pirate's." 

Unless  one  positively  hated  Madge,  it 
was  nearly  impossible  to  withstand  the  fresh 
onset  of  her  glowing  loveliness  when  she 
was  bent  upon  being  agreeable.  All  pre- 
vious doubts  and  criticisms  must  for  the  mo- 
ment forget  or  rebuke  themselves ;  or  it 
might  even  seem  that  such  a  woman  was  bet- 
ter worth  believing  in  than  any  cut-and-dried 
distinctions  between  right  and  wrong.  Eli- 
nor, who  had  studiously  avoided  associating 
with  her  since  their  conversation  after  church 
a  fortnight  previous,  and  had  even  indulged 
in  unspoken  disparagement  of  whatever  she 
had  seen  her  do  or  heard  her  say  in  the  mean 
while,  now  felt  a  twinge  of  remorse — a  mis- 
giving lest,  after  all,  she  had  misunderstood 


and  done  her  less  than  justice.  For  hero 
stood  Madge,  where  Elinor  had  uncharitably 
believed  her  afraid  to  come,  and  spoke  of 
Garth  in  such  tones  as  she  surely  durst  not 
have  used  had  she  been  indifferent  to  him — 
which  Elinor  had  suspected  her  of  being. 
The  words  were  nothing ;  it  was  the  loving 
tone  that  was  unmistakable.  On  the  whole, 
therefore,  it  seemed  likely  that  poor  Madge 
had  really  acted  from  the  most  lofty  and  dis- 
interested motives  up  till  to-day ;  and  to-day, 
in  breaking  loose  from  her  self-imposed  re- 
straint, she  had  betrayed  just  that  trait  of 
loving  womanly  weakness  which  made  the 
charm  of  her  character  complete.  So,  not 
for  the  first  time  in  her  experience,  Elinor 
found  herself  obliged  to  do  homage  to  a  vir- 
tue which  her  reason  rather  than  her  intui- 
tion acknowledged. 

All  this  time  Madge  had  paid  no  direct 
attention  to  Selwyn,  though  the  corner  of 
her  long,  oval  eye  had  no  difficulty  in  taking 
sidelong  note  of  him.  Jack,  on  the  other 
hand,  made  little  effort  to  disguise  his  ad- 
miration of  Madge,  whose  developed  beauty 
quite  beggared  his  anticipation.  "It's  sad 
to  be  forgotten,  Miss  Danver,"  he  said,  with 
an  independent  toss  of  his  head  sideways ; 
"  but  it  seems  I  must  remind  you  of  your 
pirate's  right-hand  man — Jack  Selwyn,  at 
your  service." 

"Truly,  I  knew  you  very  well,  only  I 
never  thought  you  would  remember  me," 
returned  Madge,  naively  giving  him  her 
hand.  "  I  can  never  forget  any  one  who 
loves  my  Garth." 

Selwyn  gave  Madge  a  keen  look,  and  be- 
fore he  let  go  her  hand  he  pressed  it  gently, 
but  so  significantly  as  might  justify  her  in 
supposing  that  he  wished  to  establish  a  ten- 
der private  understanding  with  her.  Under 
the  circumstances,  it  was  an  audacious  act, 
to  say  the  best  of  it ;  yet,  with  the  perverse 
luck  that  seems  so  often  to  attend  audacity, 
it  met  with  no  open  rebuke.  Madge,  per- 
haps, thought  the  best  way  to  discourage 
flirtation  was  not  to  make  too  prudish  a  re- 
sistance to  it.  At  all  events,  she  kept  a  de- 
mure countenance,  and  withdrew  her  soft 
fingers  only  in  time  to  avoid  attracting  re- 
mark. 

"  Did  you  see  Nikomis  when  you  came 


200 


GARTH. 


in  ? "  asked  Mr.  Urmson.  "  I  begin  to  think 
that  Sam  Kineo  must  have  come  back  unex- 
pectedly and  carried  her  off." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  she  expects  him  now," 
Madge  hastened  to  say,  veiling  another  side- 
glance  at  Selwyn  beneath  her  dark  lashes. 
"  He  doesn't  care  much  for  the  poor  old 
thing,  I'm  afraid ;  besides,  it  must  be  so 
much  pleasanter  to  stay  in  Europe  than  to 
come  back  here." 

"  Sam  Kineo — isn't  that  the  fellow  Garth 
thrashed  ? — Queer  name,  Mr.  Urmson.  And 
I  remember  a  Mount  Kineo,  somewhere 
north  of  us,  so  called  on  account  of  the  num- 
ber of  flint-stones  found  there.  Probably 
Sam  is  a  pretty  hard  case." 

"You  have  a  talent  for  analogies,  Jack  ; 
but  the  world  is  full  of  flints,"  remarked  Mr. 
Urmson,  a  little  ironically.  During  their 
somewhat  disconnected  colloquy  the  group 
had  been  collected  just  within  the  doorway. 
As  the  old  gentleman  spoke,  he  drew  Selwyn 
a  few  steps  onward  across  the  threshold, 
leaving  the  two  girls  behind.  "  We  are  for- 
getting Garth,"  he  continued  ;  "  but  we're 
too  large  a  party  to  visit  him  all  at  once. — 
Madge,  you  might  take  Miss  Elinor  down  to 
the  kitchen,  and  fumigate  yourselves  in  the 
chimney-corner. — Do  you  come  with  me,  sir. 
I  presume  your  cigar-case  will  be  a  sufficient 
protection  to  us  both.  Come  along ;  and, 
after  we've  made  our  call,  we'll  rejoin  the 
ladies  by  the  kitchen-fire." 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

A    FRESH    FACTOR. 

THEY  entered  the  sick-room  accordingly, 
and  shut  the  door  behind  them.  Mr.  Urm- 
son approached  the  bedside,  and,  after  touch- 
ing Garth's  pulse  and  laying  his  finger-tips 
on  his  forehead,  he  said,  "  Well,"  with  a  long 
sigh,  and  then  below  his  breath,  "  God  bless 
her!  "  The  invalid  breathed  on  in  seeming- 
ly dreamless  sleep.  Selwyn,  standing  mo- 
tionless and  in  silence,  observed  him  for  a 
long  time,  afterward  walking  moodily  to  the 
fireplace  and  leaning  there,  with  his  shoul- 
ders against  the  side  of  the  chimney-piece 


and  his  hands  in  his  pockets.     Mr.  Urmson 
had  taken  a  seat  over  against  him. 

"I  had  no  idea  of  this,"  Jack  said  at 
length.  "  No  mere  fever  has  done  that  to 
Garth ;  there's  been  hell  in  his  mind»  And 
you  may  call  me  a  fool  if  you  like,  Mr.  Urm- 
son, but  I  know  one  thing  that's  been  the 
matter." 

"Be  as  wise  as  you  please;  I  sha'n't 
mind." 

"  Well,  look  here.  I  love  Garth,  and  I 
don't  care  who  knows  it:  that's  one  thing. 
And  I  know  a  cheat  when  I  see  it,  no  mat- 
ter if  it's  as  pretty  as  Madge  Danver.  I've 
seen  women  enough,  good  and  bad,  but 
never  her  equal,  either  for  beauty  or  deviltry. 
If  I  were  Mephistopheles  and  Caliban  mixed 
half  and  half,  there  might  be  a  chance  of 
her  getting  suitably  married.  No  wonder 
Garth  got  the  fever!  " 

"I  don't  know  your  sources  of  informa- 
tion, but,  judging  by  appearances,  their  en- 
gagement has  been  remarkable  for  the  good 
faith  and  constancy  shown  on  both  sides." 

"  Good  faith  and  constancy  are  life  to 
scoundrels,  but  death  to  honest  men.  I 
don't  pretend  to  fathom  Madge  Danver,  but 
there's  no  mystery  about  Garth's  share  in 
the  business.  When  we  were  in  Europe  to- 
gether, Mr.  Urmson,  he  lived  like  a  man  who 
felt  that  he  was  at  his  best  and  happiest, 
and  knew  there  must  soon  be  an  end  of  it. 
But  often,  after  we'd  had  a  particularly  fine 
time  somewhere,  and  had  got  home  again, 
he'd  begin  to  tramp  up  and  down  the  room, 
with  that  scowl  of  his,  and  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  talking  about  Madge.  By  God,  it 
was  pitiable!  He'd  set  his  teeth,  and  growl 
out  that  she  was  the  loveliest,  sweetest, 
purest — that  whatever  good  or  great  thing 
he  did  would  be  her  doing — you  can  imagine 
the  kind  of  stuff  it  was :  always  the  same 
thing,  and  a  lie  from  beginning  to  end.  Once 
he  came  near  killing  me,  for  the  second  time 
in  our  acquaintance,  because  I  told  him  he 
didn't  care  a  damn  for  her,  and  knew  it. 
He  swore  she  was  all  he  lived  for,  and  that 
he  had  come  to  Europe  only  to  make  himself 
worthier  of  her.  I  told  him  I  believed  he 
lied,  and  then  he  took  me  by  the  throat. 
I  hope  I'll  never  get  such  another  look  as 
he  gave  me  for  a  couple  of  seconds.  If  he'd 


A  FRESH  FACTOR. 


201 


only  look  that  way  at  Madge  once,  I  could 
almost  believe  she'd  be  true  to  him  ever 
after;  for  she'd  see  that  Garth  had  a  bigger 
devil  in  him  than  she  had.  It  wasn't  two 
seconds  before  he  let  go  of  me,  and  put  his 
hands  down  by  his  sides ;  but  I'd  made  up 
my  mind  to  be  murdered,  and  almost  wished 
he'd  go  on  and  finish  me.  Then  I  saw  an- 
other thing  I  don't  care  to  see  again — I 
saw  him  cry.  I  never  meant  to  tell  this,  Mr. 
Urmson.  He's  a  terrible  fellow." 

Jack  took  a  chair  and  sat  down,  fixing 
his  eyes  on  the  fire,  his  face  moving  with 
suppressed  excitement.  Mr.  Urmson  folded 
his  arms,  and  was  silent. 

"  At  all  events,"  Jack  went  on,  advanc- 
ing his  chin  and  using  a  steadier  tone,  "that 
was  the  last  I  heard  from  him  about  Madge 
Danver.  He  went  home  some  months  after- 
ward, and  I  must  say  I  never  imagined  he'd 
find  her  faithful  to  him.  But  all  I  knew  of 
her  then  was  the  glimpse  or  two  I  got  of 
her  before  we  started  for  Europe.  She's 
clever  enough  to  cheat  with  honesty.  She 
has  her  own  reasons  for  not  letting  him 
go  till  she's  got  her  other  strings  in  proper 
order." 

"  You  have  a  clear  head,  Jack,  and  some- 
thing better  than  that,  maybe.  I  agree  with 
you  that  Garth  ought  not  to  marry  her. 
You  know  him  well ;  but  Madge  you  do  not 
know.  You  have  penetrated  further  than 
most  people  are  able  to  do;  you  see  the 
subtlety  and  perverted  principles  beneath 
the  beauty  and  fascination,  but  you've  taken 
no  account  of  the  goodness  and  sincerity 
that  are  mixed  up  along  with  t.hem.  That  is 
what  makes  Madge  hard  to  deal  justly  with. 
I  have  reason  to  believe  that  she  has  loved 
Garth  at  times  as  much  as  she  can  ever  love 
anybody,  and  that  she  would  rather  love 
him  than  any  other  man.  She  might  have 
married  twenty  times  while  Garth  was 
abroad,  and  the  reason  she  didn't  was  that 
she  feared  to  find  out,  when  it  was  too  late, 
that  Garth  was  her  true  match,  after  all. 
Her  love  seems  to  come  and  go  like  the  tide ; 
but,  in  fact,  it  is  her  opinion  as  to  the  iden- 
tity of  the  man  with  her  ideal  of  him  that 
varies.  She  would  be  perfectly  happy  if 
Garth  would  assert  himself  so  powerfully  as 
to  drive  all  doubt  and  wavering  out  of  her 


mind.  She  doesn't  enjoy  fickleness  for  its 
own  sake." 

"That's  just  what  she  does  do,  I  say," 
interposed  Selwyn.  "  What  sort  of  an  ideal 
has  a  girl  like  that  got  ?  "What  she  likes  is 
to  feel  the  contact  of  a  peremptory,  mascu- 
line nature  with  her  own.  But  she  wouldn't 
be  satisfied  to  find  all  the  qualities  she  likes 
collected  in  one  man.  She'd  rather  have 
them  distributed  among  half  a  dozen  or  a 
hundred,  and  so  have  the  fun  of  going  to  a 
different  man  for  the  enjoyment  of  each 
quality.  Fickleness  is  the  breath  of  her  life. 
I  beg  your  pardon  for  disputing  you,  Mr. 
Urmson,  but  I  believe  what  I  say." 

"  I  quite  believe  you  believe  it ;  but  I'd 
rather  be  too  lenient,  Jack,  than  over-harsh ; 
and  maybe,  when  you  have  lived  long  enough 
to  find  out  how  little  good  the  best-disposed 
people  can  do,  you'll  think  lenient  opinions 
the  wiser." 

"Yes,  but  no  fellow  can  hoist  himself  by 
his  own  waistband.  I  take  myself  as  I  am ; 
God  only  knows  whether  I'll  ever  be  any 
wiser.  Look  here.  "When  Madge  first  came 
in  just  now,  she  was  as  full  of  the  devil  as 
she  could  hold.  She  has  been  up  to  some 
mischief  or  other  this  morning.  Garth  had 
nothing  to  do  with  her  coming.  That  senti- 
mental talk  about  him  was  humbug,  and — " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  inquired 
Mr.  Urmson,  beginning  to  smile. 

"Because  in  the  next  breath  she  en- 
couraged me  to  make  secret  love  to  her. 
Yes,  I'm  set  down  for  a  place  among  the 
happy  hundred  already.  Was  there  ever 
anything  between  this  Sam  Kineo  and 
her?" 

"  There  may  have  been  ;  but  Sam  hasn't 
been  in  this  part  of  the  world  for  the  last 
ten  years  or  thereabouts,  and  I'll  admit  she 
may  have  been  fickle  enough  to  forget  him." 

"But  she'd  remember  if  she  saw  him. 
And  what  if  she  had  seen  him,  and  he  were 
in  the  house  at  this  moment  ?  " 

"  And  what  if  he  should  turn  out  to  be 
the  Mr.  Flint  whom  you  lost  sight  of  at 
Liverpool — who,  of  course,  is  a  half-breed 
Indian,  known  to  have  received  letters  di- 
rected in  a  feminine  handwriting,  and  post- 
marked New  Hampshire?  That  would  be 
rather  curious,  in  spite  of  its  probability  ; '' 


202 


GAETH. 


and  Mr.  Urmson  took  his  chin  meditatively 
in  his  hand.  Jack  was  not  fully  satisfied 
whether  the  other's  mood  were  wholly  ironic 
or  partly  earnest ;  but  at  all  events  he 
seemed  to  resolve,  after  a  little  consider- 
ation, to  let  that  particular  subject  drop  for 
the  time  being.  There  were  several  other 
questionable  matters. 

"  How  about  this  nursing,  and  medicine- 
bringing,  and  music-playing?"  he  demanded, 
rising  to  get  the  violin,  and  returning  with 
it  to  his  seat  by  the  fire.  "  Yes,  this  is  Miss 
Elinor's  instrument.  But  how  came  she, 
and  not  Madge,  to  act  as  Mrs.  Mildred's  sub- 
stitute ? " 

"That  is  one  of  the  few  things  that  I 
don't  know.  I  was  asleep.  Madge,  you  will 
be  gratified  to  hear,  has  not  visited  Garth  at 
all  until  to-day.  It  seems  strange  that  she 
and  Elinor  should  have  come  separately  and 
apparently  in  ignorance  of  each  other.  I 
must  say  I  was  more  surprised  to  see  Madge 
here  than  Miss  Elinor." 

"  It's  all  cross-purposes  now,"  said  Jack, 
biting  his  under  lip;  "but  there  seem  to  be 
about  as  many  good  people  as  bad  mixed  up 
in  it,  so  it  ought  to  come  out  right  in  the 
end — as  right  as  things  in  this  world  are 
likely  to  come. — There's  somebody." 

A  wagon  had  driven  up  to  the  door, 
and  there  were  voices  in  the  hall  below. 
The  two  men  sat  looking  at  each  other,  lis- 
tening. Madge's  voice,  with  its  elastic  rise 
and  fall,  soft  and  yet  penetrating ;  the  mag- 
niloquent superiority  of  Golightley's  organ; 
and  then  a  short,  forcible  rumble  that  caused 
a  smile  to  chase  away  the  pugnacious  ex- 
pression which  had  just  darkened  Selwyn's 
face,  and  Mr.  Urmson  to  rise  to  his  feet  with 
a  breath  of  relief.  Professor  Grindle  ! 

"We'll  meet  them  down-stairs,"  Mr. 
Urmson  said,  leading  the  way;  and  arm-in- 
arm they  descended  and  entered  the  kitch- 
en, whither  the  whole  party  had  betaken 
itself. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Cuthbert,  I  got  him,  you 
see,  in  spite  of  the  prince  of  the  powers  of 
Bowdoin  and  all  his  angels.  But  the  dear 
boy's  on  the  mending  hand  already — so  our 
little  Margaret  tells  me — and  all  Elinor's  do- 
ing, eh  ?  Ha !  ha !  H'm !  " 

This  latter  interjection,  with  an  accom- 


panying change  of  expression  from  gay  to 
grave,  was  elicited  by  Jack  Selwyn,  whom 
Golightley  had  not  till  then  happened  to 
see.  Feeling  an  authoritative  tap  on  the 
shoulder,  however,  he  turned  his  head,  and 
had  the  sensation,  which,  whether  agree- 
able or  the  reverse,  was  manifestly  unex- 
pected, of  beholding  within  two. feet  of  him 
a  face  he  had  supposed  to  be  distant  at  least 
three  thousand  miles.  Jack's  hazel  eyes 
seemed  to  find  their  way  through  Golight- 
ley's tinted  glasses,  and  there  was  no  avoid- 
ing a  recognition.  "  Ah,  you  must  be  Sel- 
wyn— Jack  Selwyn,  I  think.  Let  me  see — 
studying  law  in  Vienna,  aren't  you  ?  How- 
d'y'-do?" 

He  held  ont  an  amicable,  if  somewhat 
patronizing,  hand,  which  Jack  looked  at 
curiously,  without  moving  his  own  from 
behind  his  back.  "  I  keep  an  eye  on  the 
law,"  he  said,  while  Golightley  endeavored 
to  ignore  the  rebuff"  by  ostentatiously  unbut- 
toning and  removing  his  kid  glove;  "but 
speculation  is  my  hobby  just  now.  You 
ought  to  be  able  to  give  me  a  hint  about 
South  Americans,  if  any  man  can." 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  of  that,  Mr.  Selwyn,"  said 
Madge,  who  had  been  observing  the  encoun- 
ter of  these  gentlemen  with  an  arch  expres- 
sion of  mischief.  She  came  up  to  Golightley 
as  she  spoke,  and  put  her  hand  affectionately 
within  his  arm.  "  He  made  all  his  money 
in  South  Americans — didn't  you,  uncle  ?  But 
then,  you  know,  poor  Mr.  Tenterden  lost  all 
his  in  them ;  so  you  mustn't  be  too  precipi- 
tate and  positive,  Mr.  Selwyn. — Now  you 
needn't  laugh,  Uncle  Golightley,  because 
you  know  you  taught  me  those  words  your- 
self." 

Uncle  Golightley  had  not  laughed,  nor 
even  betrayed  an  inclination  to  do  so ;  but 
after  Madge  had  spoken,  he  seemed  to  think 
it  as  well  to  draw  back  his  mustache  and 
wrinkle  the  corners  of  bis  eyes  in  what  might 
have  answered  for  a  spasm  of  polite  merri- 
ment. At  this  juncture  Elinor  came  up  and 
touched  his  other  arm,  with  a  gesture  imply- 
ing both  reluctance  and  the  determination 
to  overcome  it. 

"Won't  you  have  some  lunch?"  she 
asked.  "We've  been  getting  it  ready,  and 
you  are  come  just  in  time.  You  must 


PICKLES  AND   CIGARETTES. 


203 


have  something  to  tell  me  about  your  jour- 
ney." 

"My  sweet  Elinor!  "  he  exclaimed,  turn- 
ing quickly  and  raising  her  hand  to  his  lips. 
It  was,  perhaps,  as  honestly  affectionate  a 
salute  as  he  had  ever  given  a  woman. 

"Come,  then,"  said  she,  blushing  and 
drawing  him  away. 

Jack  looked  after  them  rather  blankly ; 
but  he  bit  his  lip  with  chagrin  on  finding 
that  his  discomfiture  was  being  secretly  ob- 
served by  Madge. 

"They  are  ever  so  much  in  love  with 
each  other,"  she  remarked,  as  soon  as  their 
eyes  met.  "Don't  you  think  they  will  be 
very  happy  ? " 

"  I  think  she  ought  to  be,"  Jack  replied, 
after  a  pause,  solacing  himself  with  the  am- 
biguity of  his  phrase. 

In  fact,  however,  Madge  must  have  been 
as  much  suprised  as  he  that  Elinor  should  so 
far  break  down  the  barriers  of  her  maidenly 
and  constitutional  reserve  as  thus  deliber- 
ately to  seek  out  her  lover.  Only  Elinor 
knew  how,  during  the  last  few  hours,  she 
had  sadly  but  resolutely  bound  herself  to  be 
to  Golightley,  in  deed  as  already  in  word, 
all  that  a  woman  may  be  to  a  man.  He,  for 
his  part,  had  herein  a  new  experience  before 
him,  and  one  which,  in  the  present  aspect 
of  his  affairs,  was  likely  to  occasion  him  a 
good  deal  of  unpremeditated  emotion.  For 
it  should  be  said  of  him  that  if  hitherto  he 
had  been  practically  a  stranger  to  the  more 
noble  and  unselfish  kind  of  love,  he  had 
also  never  happened  to  meet  with  a  woman 
at  once  capable  of  rendering  him  the  like 
tender  and  refined  observance,  and  willing 
to  do  so.  For  the  present  the  change  in  her 
bearing  flattered  and  titillated  him  only ;  but 
a  time  might  come  when  it  should  influence 
him  more  importantly. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

TICKLES   AND    CIGARETTES. 

"LET  us  have  luncheon,  too,"  Madge 
proposed,  with  a  dash  of  demure  convivial- 
ism  in  her  tone  which  made  her  appear  de- 
lightfully jolly.  "I  know  where  there  are 
some  pickles,  and  I  think  maybe  Nikomis 


might  let  you"  have  a  little  brandy.  And 
then  you'll  smoke  a  cigar  over  me,  won't 
you  ?  so  as  to  drive  away  the  contagion." 

"Contagion!"  echoed  Jack,  as  he  fol- 
lowed his  beautiful  entertainer  to  the  pantry. 
"Everybody  here  seems  to  think  typhoid 
contagious.  It's  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"Oh,  isn't  it?  How  clever  you  are! 
Well,  I  don't  caro  whether  it  is  or  not,  for 
I  know  I  shall  never  die  of  a  fever.  That's 
the  pickles,  I  think.  Can  you  reach  them?  " 

"  These  are  infernally  good  pickles,  Miss 
Madge.  Suppose  we  sit  on  these  two  water- 
pails  and  eat  our  lunch  off  the  flour-barrel. 
I  suppose  I  mustn't  tell  you  how  much  in 
love  with  you  I  am?  besides,  you  know  it 
already." 

"Oh,  I'm  engaged  to  Garth,  Mr.  Sel- 
wyn,"  said  she,  very  gravely ;  "  so  you  may 
tell  me  whatever  you  please." 

"You  are  as  logical  as  you  are  lovely. 
Well,  I  admire  your  genius  for  finance. 
Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  something  about 
South  Americans  ?  " 

"  Now  you  are  making  fun  of  me.  Why 
should  you  come  all  the  way  from  Eu- 
rope to  this  pantry  to  ask  such  a  question  as 
that?" 

"All  the  wise  people  don't  live  in  Eu- 
rope; but,  after  eating  these  pickles,  I'm 
prepared  to  expect  almost  anything  of  this 
pantry.  I'd  give  a  thousand  pounds  for 
trustworthy  information  about  South  Amer- 
icans." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say;  then  you'd  go  off  and 
make  eighty  or  a  hundred  thousand.  I'd 
give  five  times  as  much  as  that,  Mr.  Selwyn, 
if — I  had  it  in  my  pocket." 

"  But  the  better  way  is  to  find  out  for 
yourself,  without  asking  anybody,  and  then 
you  could  put  the  hundred  thousand  in  your 
purse;  and  if  any  fellow  came  along,  and 
offered  you  five  thousand  for  information, 
you  could  turn  up  your  nose  and  look  vir- 
tuous and  say:  'Go  away,  you  naughty  man. 
I  don't  know  what  you  mean ! ' '' 

Madge  laughed  heartily,  though  not 
loud.  "I  like  you  ever  so  much,"  said  she. 
"  It's  so  pleasant  to  be  perfectly  silly  once 
in  a  while!  Aren't  you  going  to  eat  any 
more  ?  Oh,  I  suppose  you  want  your 
brandy." 


204 


GARTH. 


"  Thank  yon,  Miss  Madge,  I  always  carry 
the  creature  with  me,"  replied  Jack,  produc- 
ing a  small  traveling-flask  from  his  pocket. 
u  Nikomis's  might  be  too  strong,  you  know. 
But  this  will  keep  us  just  at  the  right  point 
of  silliness.  You  must  take  a  little." 

"  I  will,  if  you  are  sure  it's  good  for  con- 
tagion, Mr.  Selwyn;  and  perhaps  I  ought 
to  smoke  a  cigarette  too,  if  you  have  one. 
Thank  you.  South  American  ladies  smoke 
cigarettes,  don't  they?  Let's  pretend  we 
are  there." 

Jack  struck  a  match  and  handed  it  to 
her;  she  lit  her  cigarette,  inhaled  the  deli- 
cate' smoke,  and  breathed  it  forth  again 
through  her  nostrils,  her  dark  eyes  sparkling 
at  him  through  the  fragrant  haze.  "  Do  I  do 
it  right?  "  she  asked,  innocently. 

"Yes;  and  all  you  want  now  to  make 
you  perfect  is  a  little  refined  swearing  now 
and  then ;  only  you  must  be  careful  always 
to  do  it  in  a  low,  quiet  voice,  and  with  a 
very  distinct  enunciation.  Let  me  instruct 
you." 

"  No,"  said  she,  with  a  sigh ;  "  I  shaVt 
be  perfect  till  I  have  a  fortune.  "What  was 
that  we  were  talking  about  ?  Oh,  finding 
out  about  things  for  yourself.  But,  even  if 
you  had,  there  might  be  so  much  trouble  in 
the  way  of  turning  it  into  money,  that  you 
would  prefer  to  let  the  other  fellow  pay  you 
for  informing  him.  Shouldn't  you  think  so  ? 
Because  I'm  sure  anybody  who  couldn't 
make  a  fortune  out  of  five  thousand  pounds 
might  as  well  stay  at  home  and  forget  all 
about  South  America." 

"  You'd  have  to  convince  the  other  fel- 
low, though,  that  your  information  would 
lead  to  something,  else  he  might  prefer  to 
find  out  for  himself  too;  and  then  where 
would  you  be  ?  " 

Madge  touched  her  lips  to  the  brandy, 
gave  a  little  shudder,  and  set  it  down ;  then 
the  ash  of  her  cigarette  fell  on  her  dress, 
and  she  shook  it  hastily  off  with  a  merry 
pretense  of  dismay.  She  was  evidently  in 
the  highest  spirits,  yet  thoroughly  under 
control  of  herself.  Jack  was  by  no  means 
sure  that  he  could  read  her  thoughts,  yet  he 
felt  it  to  be  highly  probable  that  she  read 
his ;  and  whether  or  not  she  was  decided 
what  to  do,  had,  at  all  events,  no  special 


anxieties.  She  comprehended  the  bearings 
of  the  case,  and  meant  to  profit  by  her 
knowledge  in  one  way  or  another.  So  much 
seemed  likely  enough ;  but  how  she  got  her 
knowledge  Jack  was  unable  to  conceive.  It 
could  hardly  have  been  by  diut  of  pure 
mother-wit;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was 
incredible  that  any  criminal  in  his  proper 
senses  would  spontaneously  confess  himself 
to  a  woman,  be  her  fascinations  what  they 
might.  "Was  it  possible,  then,  that  Madge 
really  knew  nothing,  and  was  audaciously 
attempting  to  bluff  him  into  giving  her  a 
clew  ?  These  speculations  passed  through 
Jack's  head  while  he  was  biting  off  the  end 
of  his  cigar  and  striking  a  fresh  light.  He 
leaned  back  on  his  water-pail  till  his  shoul- 
ders came  against  the  side  of  the  meat-safe, 
and  in  this  position  awaited  what  his  charm- 
ing companion  might  say  next.  It  ought 
to  be  something  to  the  point.  But  there 
was  never  any  forecasting  what  Madge 
would  say  or  do. 

"  I  wish  you'd  teach  Garth  to  smoke  and 
drink  and  swear,"  she  began,  dropping  her 
festive  air  for  one  of  thoughtful  gravity. 
"  He  does  them  once  in  a  while,  of  course, 
but  not  smoothly  and  as  if  they  were  noth- 
ing. He  would  be  shocked  if  he  saw  me — 
this  way."  With  the  words,  she  crossed  one 
knee  over  the  other,  and  fell  into  a  beautiful 
parody  of  Selwyn's  careless  attitude.  He 
smiled  satirically,  and  said,  "After  a  ten 
years'  courtship,  that's  odd." 

"  Oh,  there's  a  great  deal  about  me  that 
Garth  doesn't  know,  and  wouldn't  if  he 
were  to  court  me  ten  years  more.  I  don't 
behave  to  him  as  I  do  to  you,  Mr.  Selwyn. 
Garth  isn't  a  detective  ;  and  he  says  straight 
out  what  he  means  and  what  he  wants,  as  a 
man  ought  to  do.  There's  nobody  like  him, 
I  know.  I  don't  want  there  to  be." 

"  If  I  teach  him  to  smoke  and  drink  and 
swear,  there  wouldn't  be  any  Garth  at  all. 
Is  that  what  you  want  ?  " 

.  "  You  teach  him  anything !  "  exclaimed 
she,  with  a  pungent  accent  of  angry  con- 
tempt, though  still  the  tone  was  low.  "  You 
think  you  know  me,  Jack  Selwyn.  You've 
found  out  that  I  didn't  visit  him  while  he's 
been  ill,  have  you?  And  you  gay  I  don't 
love  him.  You  are  an  honorable  gentleman, 


PICKLES  AND  CIGARETTES. 


205 


of  course,  and  can  tell  women  how  they 
should  behave  and  think ;  and  you  can  see 
through  them,  can't  you?  You  teach  my 
Garth  anything  !  Ha !  ha !  ha !  I  do  love 
him !  I  do — do  love  him !  " 

"  Do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  love  him.  And  yet  I  can  tell  you 
all  you  would  like  to  tell  me,  if  you  weren't 
too — polite.  I  didn't  go  to  him  when  he 
was  ill,  because  I  didn't  care  to ;  and  I  didn't 
care  whether  he  died  or  not.  I  don't  care 
now.  And  you  may  tell  that  to  everybody 
you  meet :  I  dare  say  you  will.  But  rather 
than  see  him  get  to  be  like  other  men,  with 
their  airs  and  lies  and  little  vices,  I'd  die  my- 
self. So  I  love  him.  I  don't  want  to  die ;  I 
like  to  live,  and  I  never  want  to  die  ;  but  I'd 
sooner  die  than  see  him  like  you,  or  like — 
the  man  who's  engaged  to  marry  Elinor." 

"  You  are  very  acute,  Miss  Madge,"  mut- 
tered Selw.yn,  conscious  that  he  had  winced. 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  take  me  on 
your  detective  force?"  asked  she,  with  an 
angry  smile,  resting  her  firm  round  arms  on 
the  barrel-head,  and  bending  her  bright  face 
toward  him.  "  It  must  be  such  an  interest- 
ing profession,  if  a  handsome,  fashionable 
young  gentleman  goes  into  it  just  for  fun — 
or  no,  it  was  because  he  had  a  noble,  abstract 
hatred  of  wrong,  and  love  of  justice !  And 
now  that  he  finds  somebody  is  going  to  marry 
Elinor,  how  much  more  abstract  his  hatred 
of  wrong  becomes,  and  how  much  harder  he 
will  make  his  detectives  work!  And  he 
means  to  get  people  to  help  him  without 
their  knowing  it  themselves ;  he  sees  through 
everybody,  and  manages  them  so  cleverly  I  " 

"  You  are  letting  your  cigarette  go  out, 
Miss  Madge." 

"Thank  you;  I  know  what  you  mean. 
You  don't  want  Garth  to  marry  me ;  I 
wouldn't  make  a  good  wife  for  him.  Per- 
haps he  don't  love  me,  because  we  have 
waited  so  long?  But  then  you  know  that 
he'd  marry  me,  whether  he  loved  me  or  not, 
because  he's  said  he  would  ;  so  you  want  to 
make  him  believe  that  I'm  not  faithful  to 
him.  Do  you  think  I  didn't  understand  why 
you  began  to  flirt  with  me  the  first  minute 
you  saw  me,  and  why  you  proposed  to  sit 
in  here,  and  gave  me  brandy  to  drink  and 
tobacco  to  smoke  ?  You  thought  you'd  get 


evidence  against  me,  and  tell  Garth  I  was 
immodest  and  false,  and  would  betray  him 
for  the  sake  of  the  first  fop  that  came  along. 
That  was  honorable  and  like  a  gentleman, 
wasn't  it  ?  And  how  self -sacrificing  of  you 
to  flirt  with  a  pretty  girl  in  the  cause  of  ab- 
stract right  and  justice ! — only  you  wouldn't 
tell  Garth  that  part  of  it.  Tell  him  all,  if 
you  like ;  yoii'll  find  he  loves  me  enough  to 
kill  you  for  it.  What  right  have  you  to  med- 
dle between  us  ?  If  I  ran  away  from  him 
with  another  man,  what  would  you  think? " 

"  I  should  wonder  what  had  been  the  ob- 
ject of  all  this  talk." 

"  Ah,  Jack  Selwyn,  what  a  quick-witted 
man  !  "  She  paused  abruptly,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment Jack  thought  she  was  about  either  to 
laugh  immoderately  or  give  way  to  a  passion 
of  tears ;  it  was  uncertain  which.  But  af- 
ter a  few  irregular  breaths,  she  regained  con- 
trol of  herself  and  did  neither.  She  went 
on  in  a  less  rapid  tone  than  before,  though 
there  was  now  a  jarring  metallic  ring  in  it. 

"I'll  tell  you,  because  I  know  you  can't 
understand,  and  wouldn't  believe  if  you  did. 
If  I  ran  away  from  him,  it  would  be  be- 
cause I  loved  him  too  much  to  stay  and 
marry  him.  I  know  what  he  needs,  and 
what  I  am.  He  needn't  feel  jealous  of  the 
man  I  run  off  with,  nor  of  anybody  in  the 
world.  What  is  love?  Can  you  tell  me? 
Do  you  think  there  could  be  a  woman  who 
honored  it  so  much  as  to  turn  her  back  on  it  ? 
— Well,  have  I  kept  you  entertained,  Mr.  Sel- 
wyn ?  Have  you  enjoyed  your  lunch  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  never  had  a  spicier  one,"  re- 
turned he.  He  spoke,  as  he  had  done  ever 
since  she  had  launched  into  this  unexpected 
and  bewildering  tirade,  in  a  cold,  cynical 
tone,  not  because  he  felt  cynical,  but  as  an 
instinctive  defense  against  being  quite  over- 
borne and  vanquished  by  the  passionate 
hap-hazard  subtilty  of  her  attack.  So  soon 
as  the  stress  was  removed,  however,  he  could 
venture  to  take  a  more  genuine  attitude. 
And  now  he  owned  to  himself  that  he  had 
taken  this  young  woman's  measure  quite 
too  heedlessly,  and  had  fairly  laid  himself 
open  to  the  taunts  and  ridicule  she  had  dealt 
out  to  him.  The  interview  had  greatly  modi- 
fied his  idea  of  her,  yet  in  such  a  manner  aa 
to  stagger  all  expectation  of  easily  finding  her 


206 


GAKTH. 


out.  What  she  had  said  was  one  thing,  and 
something  of  a  puzzle  in  itself;  why  she  had 
said  it,  and  whether  she  meant  it,  were  other 
questions  which  Jack  felt  his  inability  to  an- 
swer. He  did  not  know  whether  she  meant 
to  marry  Garth  or  not.  Had  she  made  up  i 
her  mind  to  desert  him,  and  was  she  trying 
to  justify  her  fickleness  by  calling  it  fine 
names?  Or  was  she  (feeling  herself  inse- 
cure) striving  to  shame  herself  into  honesty  ? 
Had  she  spoken  from  deliberate  forethought 
or  from  unpremeditated  impulse?  It  had 
sounded  very  like  the  latter ;  yet,  on  going 
over  what  had  passed,  Jack  could  not  find 
that  she  had  anywhere  given  him  a  practical 
handle  against  her.  She  had  said  some  ap- 
parently very  reckless  things,  yet  nothing 
really  irretrievable,  that  she  might  not  in- 
terpret to  her  own  advantage.  On  the  whole, 
the  main  impression  left  upon  his  mind  was 
that  Madge  was  more  of  a  woman,  in  every 
sense  of  the  phrase,  than  he  had  given  her 
credit  for  being.  And  though  Jack  was  not 
given  to  fear  of  either  woman  or  man,  he 
was  frankly  willing  to  congratulate  himself 
that  his  destiny  was  not  bound  up  witli  that 
of  this  beautiful  and  brilliant  girl. 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  made  you  angry," 
he  said;  "but  you  ought  to  consider  that  no 
one  but  you  would  have  been  keen-witted 
enough  to  take  offense.  Take  my  advice  for 
what  it's  worth — don't  marry  Garth  :  marry 
some  old  fool.  You  were  born  to  set  the 
world  by  the  ears,  and  Garth  would  be  ter- 
ribly in  your  way,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Thank  you.  You  would  not  dare  say 
that  to  me  if  Garth  were  here." 

"I'll  repeat  it  before  him  where  you 
choose.  Why  should  I  varnish  words  with 
you,  Miss  Madge  ?  You  have  given  me  the 
right  to  say  what  I  think  to  you,  and  I  shall 
use  it  henceforward.  "What  would  be  the 
use  of  my  declaring  that  I  had  a  profound 
reverence  for  your  candor  and  constancy  and 


moral  and  religious  fastidiousness,  or  that  I 
believed  in  the  guileless  innocence  of  a  girl 
who  had  just  outwitted  me?  Yes,  I  admit 
you've  outwitted  me.  I  know  no  more  about 
South  Americans,  for  instance,  than  I  did  be- 
fore ;  but  then,  Miss  Madge,  I  know  as  much  ; 
and  probably  that  will  be  enough  for  the 
purpose." 

Madge  got  up  and  set  her  foot  upon  the 
water-pail,  resting  her  elbow  on  her  knee 
and  her  chin  upon  her  hand,  while  her  dark 
glance  wandered  over  the  brown  boarded 
floor.  "I'm  glad  you  have  treated  me  as 
yon  have  done,"  said  she.  "  I  have  looked 
forward  to  your  coming,  and  I  might  have 
helped  you,  and  you  me;  but  I  shall  feel 
better  to  do  without  you,  and  to  hate  you. 
Do  your  best  to  take  Garth  from  me,"  she 
added,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  sudden 
gleam  of  enmity.  "  He  won't  thank  you  in 
the  end,  and  I  will  have  my  way.  in  every- 
thing in  spite  of  you  all." 

"  And  I'm  to  clear  out  ? "  said  Jack,  rising 
also  and  going  to  the  door.  "  Well,  good-by. 
It's  worth  a  man's  being  born  to  quarrel 
with  you ;  but  he'd  better  die  than  love  you." 

He  went  out,  closing  the  door  of  the 
shadowy  little  pantry  behind  him.  Madge, 
when  she  felt  herself  entirely  alone,  reseated 
herself  on  the  bucket,  and  staid  long  in 
still-eyed  reverie,  one  arm  thrown  across  the 
top  of  the  barrel,  while  the  fingers  of  the 
other  hand  pinched  little  creases  in  the  skirt 
upon  her  kuee.  At  last  a  change  came  over 
her;  she  began  to  pant  and  tremble;  sud- 
denly she  turned  and  pillowed  her  forehead 
on  her  arms,  and  then  for  a  time  she  wept 
from  her  very  soul.  Could  Garth  have 
come  to  her  then,  he  might  have  gained  a 
blessing  both  for  Madge  and  for  himself. 
But  the  time  passed,  and  she  got  slowly  to 
her  feet,  feeling  that  she  had  done  with 
tears.  And,  after  all,  the  blessing  might 
have  grown  into  a  curse. 


THE  PHYSICIAN. 


207 


BOOK  VIII. 
LEA    YEN, 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

THE   PHYSICIAN. 

THE  meeting  between  Mr.  Urmson  and 
Professor  Grindle  had  not  been  outwardly 
effusive.  The  professor's  bald  pate  had  red- 
dened a  little  as  he  strongly  griped  his  old 
fellow-student's  hand,  and  he  had  said,  "  How 
do,  Urmson  ?  "  in  his  usual  abrupt,  bass  tones, 
perhaps  made  a  little  more  uncompromising 
than  usual  to  keep  up  the  good  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  traditions  of  unfeelingness.  Mr.  Urm- 
son had  replied,  "  How  do  you  do,  profess- 
or?" and  after  the  exchange  of  a  few 
questions  and  observations  of  no  less  mo- 
mentous import,  the  two  elderly  gentlemen 
left  the  younger  people  to  themselves,  and 
proceeded  in  total  silence  up-stairs,  Cuthbert 
leading,  and  the  professor  tramping  sternly 
after  him.  In  silence  they  entered  Garth's 
chamber,  and  there  the  professor  stood  for 
a  moment,  motionless  but  observant,  by  the 
bedside.  Then,  without  having  touched  the 
invalid,  or  emitted  so  much  as  a  single  pro- 
fessional grunt,  he  stepped  back  to  the  door, 
and  beckoning  to  his  companion,  they  went 
silently  out  into  the  hall  again. 

"Let  him  sleep,"  said  the  professor. 
"Lead  on  to  your  chamber,  Urmson.  Must 
smoke  a  cigar  and  toast  my  toes  after  that 
drive.  The  winter's  upon  us;  you'll  catch 
it  up  here  sooner  than  we  shall.  Ay,  I  see ; 
not  much  desk-work  for  you  nowadays. 
Nursing.  And  Mrs.  Urmson  not  here  to 
help."  Since  Mrs.  Urmson's  marriage  this 
old  lover  of  hers,  who  had  never  told  his 
love  either  to  her  or  to  any  one  else,  had  re- 
frained from  speaking  of  her  by  her  Chris- 
tian name ;  and  this  not  from  any  unwor- 
thy jealousy,  but  because  he  derived  a  stern, 
unselfish  pleasure  from  the  thought  that 
the  only  woman  he  had  loved  belonged  to 


the  man  whom  he  loved  best,  and  chose 
to  keep  that  fact  before  his  mind  by  al- 
ways giving  her  the  name  she  was  mar- 
ried to. 

"Heaven  is  too  near  us,  I  sometimes 
think,"  Cuthbert  answered.  "The  people 
we  want  most  are  so  apt  to  slip  into  it  out 
of  our  reach." 

"  'Tisn't  that  the  boy  needed  her,"  said 
Grindle,  taking  a  brand  from  the  hearth  and 
lighting  his  cigar  with  a  series  of  short,  rapid, 
whiffs.  "  He'll  do  very  well — a  strong  grip 
of  life,  sir.  'Twas  you  I  referred  to  more 
particularly,  Urmson.  You're  not  looking 
as  I'd  like  to  have  you.  You  have  that  in 
your  face,  my  man,  that — none  of  your 
late  communications  had  prepared  me  to  see 
there.  Now  as  your  physician,  I'll  ask  you 
a  question  or  two.  Your  mother  was  a 
Danver,  was  she  not?  What  was  her  con- 
stitution?" 

"Take  off  your  spectacles,  Tom,"  said 
Cuthbert,  coloring  slightly ;  "you'll  be  sharp- 
sighted  enough  without  them.  I  didn't  get 
you  here  for  this.  However —  No,  nothing 
was  developed  in  her,  God  bless  her !  It 
came,  if  anything,  from  her  mother,  who 
belonged  to  another  stock — a  poor  one.  She 
died  of  it." 

Grindle  took  off  his  glasses  and  rested 
his  elbows  on  his  knees.  "Ay,  ay,"  he  said 
slowly,  gazing  into  the  fire.  "And  that  has 
always  somewhat  posed  me,  Cuthbert.  That 
old  curse — why  did  the  Lord  pronounce  it 
against  his  creatures  ? — '  The  children's  teeth 
shall  be  set  on  edge.'  How  often  does  the 
children's  suffering  accomplish  the  erring 
parent's  reformation  ?  It  never  can.  What 
knows  or  cares  that  dead  and  buried  and 
forgotten  woman — or  it  may  have  been  Tier 
father  or  mother — that  you  sit  there  hand-in- 
hand  with  disease,  who  might  have  been  a 
vigorous  man  still,  full  of  health  and  power? 


GARTH. 


Such  a  curse  seems  only  to  revenge ;  not  to 
restrain,  nor  to  requite  justly.'' 

"  I  suppose  you  must  have  a  personal 
interest  in  such  problems  before  you  can 
expect  to  tackle  them,  Tom.  What  I  have 
felt  is,  that  the  curse  may  smite  the  body 
and  pass  through  to  bless  the  soul.  For, 
after  all,  I  wasn't  a  perfect  man  when  you 
and  I  used  to  argue  the  universe  in  college ; 
nor  afterward,  even  —  quite.  Some  com- 
plaints you  were  in  the  habit  of  making 
anent  the  evils  of  a  too  ironical  and  self- 
complacent  disposition,  if  my  memory  fail 
not.  My  grandmamma  has  very  likely  not 
cured  me  of  those  imperfections — not  even 
bettered  me,  perhaps;  but  I'm  self-compla- 
cent enough  to  believe  she  has  kept  me  from 
intensifying  them,  and  ironical  enough  to 
hope  that  she  is  none  the  worse  off  herself 
for  having  done  so." 

"  Inform  me  how  long  this  has  been 
coming  on  you,  my  man." 

"  More  than  a  year — a  good  deal  more. 
Slow,  but  knows  how  to  make  itself  felt." 

"Where.?"  demanded  Grindle,  after  a 
long  puff  at  his  cigar,  still  keeping  his  eyes 
upon  the  fire.  Cuthbert's  only  answer  was 
to  put  his  hand  for  a  moment  over  his  breast. 
Then  the  two  friends  looked  at  each  other. 
The  professor,  whose  face  during  the  past 
twenty-and-odd  years  had  not  been  trained 
to  the  expression  of  tender  emotions,  wore 
an  aspect  of  gloomy  severity,  as  though  he 
were  reproving  some  delinquent  for  a  grave 
misdemeanor ;  while  Cuthbert's  pale  and 
slender  visage  had  rather  an  arch  and  de- 
murely unrepentant  look,  as  if  defying  the 
other's  sternness  to  do  its  worst. 

"  Had  you  acquainted  me  with  this 
promptly,  Urmson — "  Grindle  began.  But  he 
did  not  finish  his  sentence.  He  replaced  his 
spectacles,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  con- 
tinued his  smoking.  His  large-boned  but  not 
fleshy  figure,  high,  bald  forehead,  and  mas- 
sive Roman  nose  were  silhouetted  against  the 
brightness  of  the  window  at  the  other  side  of 
the  room.  He  was  still  a  strong  and  able  man, 
though  somewhat  Cuthbert's  senior  in  years ; 
and,  while  the  silence  lasted,  the  latter  was 
indulging  in  the  quaint  speculation  whether, 
in  the  next  world,  his  friend  would  exhibit 
a  spiritual  excellence  corresponding  to  his 


present  physical  superiority,  or  whether  he 
would  take  rank  by  his  mental  qualities 
alone.  But  the  settlement  of  the  question 
was  indefinitely  put  off  by  the  interruption 
of  Grindle  himself. 

"I'll  not  speak  to  yon  as  a  physician, 
then,"  said  he.  "  Some  alleviation  may  be 
practicable;  but  you  don't  require  me  to 
tell  you,  Cuthbert,  what  the  end  must  be. 
Now,  however,  since  I  must  leave  you  to- 
morrow, it  would  be  advisable  to  go  through 
with  our  business  affairs  and  get  them  final- 
ly settled.  When  we  may  meet  again,  no 
man  knows.  I  shall  try  to  come  up  during 
the  Christmas  holidays ;  but  quid  sit  futu- 
rum  eras  fuge  qucerere.  Your  brother  Go- 
lightley,  I  presume,  is  at  least  independent 
of  you  ? " 

"Yes,  so  far  as  money  goes,  and  for  the 
time  being." 

"  I  forbore  questioning  him  on  the  sub- 
ject, though  he  once  or  twice  hinted  toward 
it.  I  own  to  disliking  his  physiognomy  and 
the  ring  of  his  voice :  twenty  years  of  col- 
lege-boys have  made  me  over-critical,  no 
doubt.  Has  he  suggested  reimbursement  ? " 

"  I  fancy  we  can  do  without  that,"  said 
Cuthbert,  with  a  slight  nervous  movement 
of  his  shoulders  and  hands. 

"You  have  the  produce  of  your  garden 
and  orchard,"  returned  Grindle,  puffing  un- 
compromisingly at  his  cigar,  "  and  nothing 
else.  The  interest  of  Eve's  legacy  amounts 
to  less  than  twenty -five  hundred  dollars  this 
year,  and,  when  Mrs.  Danver's  'patent'  an- 
nuity has  been  paid  out  of  it,  and  the  other 
regular  and  incidental  expenses  met,  there'll 
be  about  one  hundred  left  over.  That's 
your  year's  income,  sir.  There's  not  a  poorer 
man  than  you  in  the  village.  How  do  you 
pay  your  butcher?" 

"Why,  we  pelt  him  with  apples.  But 
you  forget  Garth's  canvas,  and  my  pen  and 
paper.  Moreover,  Golightley  is  ready  to  pay 
his  board.  We  are  doing  first  rate !  " 

"Well,  well,  sir,  that's  your  own  affair. 
And  there's  this  to  be  said — if  you  have 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  your  own  improvi- 
dence, you  have  still  greater  cause  to  con- 
gratulate yourself  on  the  way  Providence 
makes  it  up  for  you.  If  you  had  not,  years 
and  years  ago,  consented  to  your  father's 


THE  PHYSICIAN. 


209 


laying  an  embargo  on  that  fifty  thousand 
dollars — a  proceeding,  sir,  against  which 
every  principle  of  prudence  and  economy 
seemed  to  protest — " 

"  You  protested,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
Tom,"  interrupted  Cuthbert,  arching  his  eye- 
brow ;  "  but  the  economic  principles  were 
rather  on  our  side.  So  soon  as  poor  Go- 
lightley's  drafts  began  to  be  a  matter  of 
course,  I,  with  my  unfailing  sagacity,  fore- 
saw the  future  up  to  this  very  day,  and  per- 
ceived that,  unless  the  legacy  had  been  put 
out  of  reach  in  that  way,  it  would  have  been 
drafted  away  with  the  rest.  Then  I  in- 
formed Golightley  of  the  exact  amount  at 
my  disposal,  and  explained  to  him  the  worse 
than  uselessness  of  overdrawing.  And  he 
never  did  overdraw." 

"Ah,  he  had  no  lien  upon  Eve's  rights, 
whatever  he  may  have  had  upon  yours. 
Captain  Urmson  had  that  fact  in  mind,  I 
apprehend,  when  he  executed  the  codicil. 
He  never  really  believed  but  that  the  girl 
was  tomahawked ;  but  he  had  a  presenti- 
ment that  Golightley  would  make  trouble, 
and  so  used  Eve's  name  to  secure  you  at 
least  half  the  property.  It  may  almost  be 
called  your  own  now,  the  allotted  term  of 
years  is  so  nearly  out." 

"Five  or  &ix  years  hence  seems  a  long 
'now'  to  a  fellow  in  my  condition,"  re- 
marked Cuthbert,  with  a  smile. 

"You  have  got  the  same  erroneous  im- 
pression that  I  had  till  lately.  'Tis  true,  the 
codicil  was  executed  some  years  later  than 
the  will ;  but,  whether  by  accident  or  design, 
the  date  of  the  will  governs  the  provisions 
of  the  codicil ;  therefore,  unless  the  persons 
therein  mentioned  appear  within  the  next 
few  months,  their  claim  will  be  antiquated. 
Ay,  ay,  you  are  providentially  favored  so  far 
as  that  goes,  and  Garth  will  have  something 
to  get  married  on." 

"Unless  the  persons  therein  mentioned 
do  appear,"  Cuthbert  murmured,  half  to 
himself,  and  he  added,  aloud,  "Did  you 
speak  of  this  to  my  brother?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Grindle,  with  emphasis. 
"  As  I  said,  he  does  not  inspire  me  with  con- 
fidence. By-the-by,  he  made  some  remarks 
on  Madge,  who  seems  to  have  grown  into  a 
lovely  young  woman ;  he  volunteered  some 
14 


reflections  on  her  which  I  can  hardly  recon- 
cile with  my  own  impression  of  her.  Do 
you  like  the  match?  " 

"It  has  been  a  long  engagement,  you 
know,"  replied  Cuthbert,  with  some  hesita- 
tion, "and  one  might  suppose  that  if  there 
were  any  incompatibility,  it  would  have 
come  to  the  surface  before  now.  Neverthe- 
less, I  think  it  would  be  juster  to  both  par- 
ties if  this  discovery  of  yours  about  the 
codicil  were  kept  private  for  a  time.  How- 
ever ardent  Madge's  affection  for  Garth  may 
be,  I  fancy  money  would  inflame  it  still 
more;  and  though  in  process  of  time  she 
might  find  Garth  a  little  wearisome,  I'm  sure 
she  would  remain  constant  to — Plutus." 

"  Oho !  Cuthbert,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  this 
— heartily  sorry.  Your  brother's  insinua- 
tions, had  I  been  inclined  to  accept  them, 
might  have  prepared  me  for  it.  No ;  Garth 
is  no  fit  rival  for  Plutus.  But  is  that  lovely 
girl  ....?"  Professor  Grindle  mused  a 
moment  and  sighed.  His  interviews  with 
Madge  had  been  brief  and  far  between,  yet 
enough,  apparently,  to  render  this  new  light 
thrown  upon  her  character  something  more 
than  a  disappointment  to  him.  Under  or- 
dinary circumstances,  he  would  uncompro- 
misingly have  rebelled  against  any  deprecia- 
tion of  her ;  but  Cuthbert,  unlike  most  peo- 
ple, was  accustomed  to  say  less  than  he 
meant,  and  only  to  say  that  upon  grave  occa- 
sion. "  Have  you  hinted  of  this  to  Garth  ?  " 
Grindle  added. 

"I  have  always  allowed  Garth's  opinions 
to  correct  themselves,  Tom.  He  is  often 
wrong ;  but,  when  he  is  right,  he  knows 
why.  I  may  as  well  unburden  my  soul  to 
you :  I  hope  they  won't  marry ;  and,  if  Garth 
can  manage  to  stay  poor  awhile  longer,  I 
don't  believe  they  will.  The  situation  is  a 
peculiar  one.  She  likes  him  well  enough, 
all  but  his  artistic  phase ;  and  he,  if  he  would 
abjure  his  art,  would  love  her  fiercely  with 
all  that  remained — that  is,  with  the  less 
noble  part  of  him.  He  partly  understands 
that,  I  think,  and  dreads  it  the  more  because, 
at  the  same  time,  he  feels  it  a  temptation. 
You  can  understand,  Tom,  how  Madge  might 
tempt  a  hot-hearted  yet  undemonstrative 
young  fellow  like  him." 

"  Ay,  very  well,"  said  Grindle,  nodding 


210 


GARTH. 


his  head  slowly.  "And,  being  betrothed,  | 
honor  would  seem  to  throw  its  weight  into 
the  wrong  scale.  Tis  an  awkward  knot  for 
the  boy  to  untie,  indeed.  But,  if  Madge  has 
made  up  her  mind  for  riches,  she  will  untie 
it  for  him." 

"  She  must  not  be  depended  on  either 
for  good  or  ill.  1  believe  her  capable  of 
making  a  great  sacrifice,  if  her  feminine  per- 
versity be  inflamed.  Jealousy,  or  pique,  or 
a  sudden  impulse  of  admiration  for  his  phys- 
ical manliness,  would  be  likely  to  drive  her 
straight  into  Garth's  arms,  though  it  is  quite 
as  likely  that  she  would  repent  the  day  after- 
ward. She  is  a  good  deal  more  or  less  than 
mercenary.  But  her  attackable  point  is  her 
seJf-esteem.  She  would  hardly  believe  that 
Garth  could  tire  of  her,  or  esteem  her  second 
to  any  other  woman ;  and,  feeling  no  anxiety 
about  the  security  of  her  power  over  him, 
she  naturally  values  him  the  less.  Besides, 
I  fancy  his  illness  has  rather  cooled  her  re- 
gard than  warmed  it ;  she  is  like  a  beautiful 
animal  in  her  inability  to  sympathize  with 
physical  suffering." 

''Don't  tell  me  she  hasn't  been  at  his 
side  through  it  all,  Urmson!  What  did  your 
brother  say  about  her  having  played  him  to 
sleep  this  very  morning?  " 

"Not  Madge.     That  was  Elinor." 

"That  cold,  silent  girl?  Elinor— hardly 
saw  her,  sir!"  Grindle  took  his  short 
beard  in  his  hand,  and  crossed  his  leg  em- 
phatically toward  his  interluctor.  "Hey? 
Elinor —  Is  that  another  complication, 
Urmson  ?  Unless  my  recollection's  at  fault, 
it  was  to  an  Elinor  that  your  brother  told  me 
he  was  betrothed.  Hey  ?  " 

"  The  engagement  has  been  made  public, 
and  need  not  further  concern  us,"  returned 
Cuthbert,  with  one  of  his  quiet  looks  of 
dismissal.  "  Elinor  took  Mrs.  Tenterden's 
place  for  to-day,  that's  all ;  and  Garth  seems 
to  have  improved  more  by  an  hour  with  her 
than  by  what  the  rest  of  us  could  do  for  him 
in  three  weeks.  She  has  the  nursing  talent, 
which  Madge  lacks,  and  seemingly  she  didn't 
fear  contagion." 

"  Typhoid  contagions !  "  said  Grindle, 
grimly  chuckling. 

"So  say  many;  and  I  have  thought  it  as 
well  not  to  combat  the  prejudice.  Mrs.  Ten- 


terden,  though  most  kind  and  helpful  down- 
stairs, would  be  a  little  tremendous  in  a  sick- 
chamber;  and  Madge,  since  she  seemed  in- 
clined to  keep  away  at  any  rate,  would  be 
none  the  worse  for  a  pretext  both  for  jus- 
tifying her  resolution  and  making  her  stick 
to  it.  '  This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have 
used.' " 

"You  are  a  more  subtile  man  than 
Othello — but  always  in  an  honest  way,  too," 
observed  Grindle,  slowly  settling  back  into 
gravity.  "Well,  well.  If  music  physics 
him  best,  and  neither  Madge  nor  Golightley 
objects,  the  experiment  is  worth  prosecut- 
ing. Cold,  she  seemed  to  me — impassive. 
Not  handsome  either,  though  refined.  Must 
look  at  her  again.  But,  by-the-by,  how 
came  Madge,  your  beautiful  animal,  to  put 
herself  in  the  way  of  sick-rooms  and  con- 
tagion to-day  ?  Is  she  returning  to  human- 
ity?" 

"  If  it  were  not  Madge,  I  should  lay  it  to 
Elinor's  having  come  first;  but  I  can't  ac- 
count for  it.  She  was  in  a  rather  remarka- 
ble mood.  Something  must  have  happened, 
I  think,  which  has  put  her  out  of  her  usual 
course.  There's  no  use  in  speculating  about 
it;  but,  once  kindled  or  goaded  into  full 
emotional  and  intellectual  activity,  Madge 
would  be  a  very  interesting  and  unconven- 
tional object.  Come,  Tom,  throw  away  your 
cigar,  and  let's  see  whether  the  sick  boy  is 
awake  yet." 

"  He'll  come  out  of  it,  sir,"  said  Grindle, 
getting  to  his  feet,  and  standing  for  a  mo- 
ment with  his  fists  upon  his  hips,  gazing  in- 
to the  fire.  "All  he  needs  is  care,  patience, 
and  eating.  Let  the  young  lady  play  to  him 
once  in  a  while,  if  he  likes  it.  Must  have 
a  word  with  her,  by-the-by,  before  I  go. 
Lead  on,  lead  on." 


CHAPTER  LX. 

XIKOMIS'S     LODGE  E. 

MEANWHILE,  it  is  no  less  than  the  due  of 
so  respectable  a  personage  as  Nikomis  that 
some  inquiry  should  be  made  into  her  doings 
on  this  somewhat  eventful  morning.  The 
old  lady  was  a  notable  "medicine-woman," 


NIKOMIS'S  LODGER. 


211 


from  an  Indian  point  of  view ;  and,  in  her 
own  opinion,  Garth's  recovery,  if  it  took 
place,  would  be  mainly  owing  to  what  she 
had  done  for  him.  Her  chief  concern,  how- 
ever, had  all  along  been  rather  for  Cuthbert 
than  for  him.  Toward  Cuthbert  her  senti- 
ments had,  during  the  past  ten  years,  under- 
gone some  important  modifications,  the  full 
significance  of  which  may  appear  later  on. 
But  it  may  be  mentioned  in  this  place  that 
something  like  a  feeling  of  mutual  respect 
had  grown  up  between  the  two ;  and  this 
had  ripened  latterly  into  a  peculiar  confiden- 
tial relation,  unsuspected  by  any  third  per- 
son, not  only  as  to  its  nature,  but  in  itself. 
Among  other  matters,  Nikomis  had  been 
made  acquainted  with  the  character  of  the 
disease  from  which  Cuthbert  was  suffering, 
and  which,  in  all  human  probability,  must 
sooner  or  later  make  an  end  of  him.  It 
might,  however,  be  alleviated,  and  to  this 
good  end  the  Indian  had  taxed  the  best  re- 
sources of  her  knowledge  and  experience. 
But  the  anxiety  of  mind  and  bodily  exhaus- 
tion brought  about  by  Garth's  illness  had 
hastened  the  progress  of  his  father's  trouble, 
and  Nikomis,  while  nursing  both  invalids 
with  tolerable  impartiality,  could  not  free 
herself  from  a  shade  of  resentment  toward 
the  younger  man  for  sapping,  however 
unconsciously,  the  springs  of  the  elder's 
life. 

When  Cuthbert,  therefore,  went  to  lie 
down  early  that  morning,  leaving  Garth  in 
her  care,  she  resolved  that  he  and  not  Garth 
should  get  the  first  benefit  of  her  ministra- 
tions. She  had  already  prepared  a  narcotic, 
famous  in  her  Indian  pharmacy  for  its 
soothing  and  restorative  virtues,  and  possi- 
bly had  enhanced  its  efficacy  by  distilling  it 
under  certain  aspects  of  the  moon,  or  mut- 
tering over  it  spells  which  made  it  worth  all 
the  unbewitched  nostrums  in  the  world.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  she  now  poured  a  sufficient 
dose  of  it  into  a  wineglass,  disguised  its  fla- 
vor with  a  little  brandy,  and  got  Cuthbert 
to  swallow  it  between  waking  and  sleeping. 
Then,  leaving  the  glass  upon  the  table,  she 
hobbled  grimly  off"  to  Garth's  chamber — as 
unprepossessing  a  herald  of  health,  perhaps, 
as  ever  did  her  best  for  two  human  lives. 
Garth  having  been  made  as  easy  as  might 


be,  Nikomis  betook  herself  to  the  congenial 
kitchen,  intending,  no  doubt,  to  spend  an 
hour  or  so  over  a  pipe  and  a  tumbler  of 
grog.  Ere  she  could  establish  herself  in  her 
wonted  corner,  however,  her  attention  was 
caught  by  a  scratching  sound,  alternating 
with  a  low,  whining  whimper,  which  seemed 
to  come  from  outside  the  back-door  that 
opened  upon  the  orchard.  An  ordinary  lis- 
tener would  have  supposed  that  some  vaga- 
bond dog,  chilled  by  the  night  air  and  em- 
boldened by  hunger,  was  trying  to  gain  ad- 
mittance to  the  warm  hearth  and  the  hospi- 
tality of  a  bone.  But  Nikomis  was  not  an 
ordinary  listener ;  she  had  the  ears  and  in- 
stincts of  a  savage,  and  so  seemingly  com- 
monplace a  sound  as  this  had  for  her  a 
meaning  as  definite  and  clear  as  the  most 
straightforward  utterance  of  sentences  could 
have  conveyed.  She  stood  rigid,  with  her 
head  thrust  forward  and  her  breath  drawn. 
The  noise  came  again ;  she  took  a  few  quick, 
moccasined  steps  forward,  and  pausing  close 
to  the  door,  gave  vent  to  an  answering 
whimper,  ending  in  a  muffled  bark.  There 
was  a  brief  pause,  and  then  the  door  was 
cautiously  opened,  and  a  tall  man,  carrying  a 
heavy,  oblong  box  strapped  to  his  shoulders, 
and  a  stout,  smooth  cudgel  in  his  hand,  ap- 
peared on  the  threshold. 

"All  alone,  granny?"  he  asked  in  a 
rapid,  sliding  utterance,  still  holding  the 
door-latch  in  his  hand,  and  peering  round 
and  beyond  her  as  he  spoke^ 

Nikomis  gazed  at  him  intently — so  in- 
tently that  the  faculty  of  speech  seemed 
temporarily  lost  to  her;  but  on  the  tall 
man's  repeating  his  inquiry  somewhat  impa- 
tiently, she  made  a  gesture  of  assent  with 
her  hand,  still  keeping  her  black  eyes  fixed 
upon  his  face.  After  yet  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, he  came  in,  with  a  step  rapid  and  slid- 
ing, like  his  voice,  though  at  the  same  time 
there  was  about  his  bearing  a  something  half 
defiant,  half  jaunty,  which  indicated  a  man 
whose  satisfaction  with  himself  had  outlived 
his  faith  and  reliance  on  most  other  matters. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  dirty  velveteen  jacket 
and  torn  felt  hat ;  his  black  hair  hung  in 
straight  black  masses  about  a  swarthy  face, 
which  might  have  been  handsome  but  for 
the  disfigurement  of  a  pair  of  green  specta- 


212 


GARTH. 


cles  with  heavy  brass  bows  to  them.  Alto- 
gether, he  had  rather  an  Italian  aspect ;  and 
the  heavy  burden  upon  his  shoulders,  which 
on  a  nearer  glance  appeared  to  be  a  hand- 
organ,  might  have  confirmed  a  stranger  in 
assigning  him  that  nationality.  It  was  ten 
to  one  that  he  was  a  Neapolitan  organ-grinder 
in  very  needy  circumstances. 

"  What  you  staring  at,  granny  ? "  de- 
manded he  in  a  whisper,  putting  his  hand 
briskly  on  the  old  woman's  shoulder.  "  Glad 
t'  see  me,  eh?  Why  don't  you  say  so,  then? 
Here,"  he  added,  "help  me  off  with  this 
damned  old  box,  granny,  and  carry  it  up  to 
the  wigwam  for  me.  Got  wigwam  up  in  the 
garret,  eh  ? — I  know."  He  slipped  the  broad 
leathern  strap  down  from  his  shoulder  and 
swung  the  organ  round  against  Nikomis,  who 
helped  him  lower  it  noiselessly  to  the  ground. 
"  That  feels  good,"  said  he,  expanding  his 
chest  and  giving  his  shoulders  a  shake.  "  I've 
carried  that  thing  all  the  way  from  Boston, 
granny.  You  get  it  up  to  the  garret  right 
off.  Wait  a  minute !  "  He  took  her  abrupt- 
ly by  the  arm  again.  "  Sure  all  safe  here — 
•what?  no  harm  in  th'  house — what?  " 

Nikomis  put  up  her  hand  doubtfully  and 
took  the  disfiguring  green  spectacles  from 
the  man's  nose.  The  black  eyes  thus  dis- 
closed were  handsome  and  penetrating,  but 
evasive.  But  to  Nikomis  they  were  dearer 
than  her  own.  "  Sam !  "  said  she,  fastening 
her  long  knotty  fingers  on  his  tall  shoulders, 
and  looking  up  at  him  in  a  kind  of  spasm  of 
grotesque  delight.  "  You  at  home  now. 
This  all  safe — your  home.  Nikomis  bid  you 
welcome."  With  the  last  words  she  straight- 
ened herself  and  made  a  waving  gesture  of 
greeting  with  her  hand,  as  though  she  were 
an  envoy  come  to  present  a  palace  to  a  mon- 
arch. Sam  laughed — an  almost  noiseless 
laugh,  covering  his  teeth  with  his  lips  and 
ducking  his  chin  down  to  his  breast. 

"  Yon  very  grand,  old  worn  an  !  My  home 
— I  know  ;  but  there's  some  little  things  to 
be  settled  up  first,  you  know.  Let's  see,  now 
— Garth  sick,  is  he  ?  But  where's  the  old 
man  ? — he  sick  too  ?  " 

"  Cuthbert  sleeps,"  returned  the  Indian. 
"Why  you  come  this  way?"  she  added, 
noticing  for  the  first  time  the  significance  of 
his  disguise.  "  Why  you  make  look  so  poor, 


Sam  ?  You  not  rich  any  more  ?  Anybody 
you're  afraid  of?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  that's  a  long  story ;  tell  you 
all  about  it  directly,  granny — too  damned 
hungry  for  any  powwow  now.  Show  me 
where  I  can  get  something  to  eat,  first  thing  ; 
and  take  that  old  organ-box  up-stairs — d'you 
hear?  Got  all  my  things  in  it — mustn't  be 
where  anybody  can  find  it.  I'm  going  to 
keep  dark  for  a  while,  granny — d'you  un- 
derstand? Come,  now,  show  me  where  the 
meat  is." 

Nikomis,  although  accustomed  to  exact 
and  receive  ceremonious  treatment  from  all 
pale-faced  mortals,  seemed  ready  to  accept 
with  meekness  any  amount  of  this  dark- 
skinned  vagabond's  cavalier  behavior.  She 
set  a  plentiful  meal  before  him,  and  then,  re- 
turning to  the  box,  contrived  with  difficulty 
to  mount  it  on  her  venerable  back,  and  so  to 
lug  it  slowly  and  uncomplainingly  up  to  her 
wigwam.  Arrived  there,  she  seated  herself 
upon  it  and  spent  a  few  minutes  in  regaining 
her  breath,  both  physical  and  metaphysical. 
Rising  at  length,  she  made  a  few  alterations 
in  the  arrangement  of  the  place;  and  when 
all  was  ordered  to  her  satisfaction,  she  hob- 
bled silently  down  to  the  kitchen  again, 
where  Sam  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and 
enjoying  the  luxury  of  appeased  appetite. 
The  beef  and  bread,  and  still  more  the  flat- 
tering unction  of  a  glass  of  brandy,  had  evi- 
dently won  him  to  a  more  genial  mood. 

"There  you  are  again,  granny!  So  the 
old  thing  didn't  break  your  back,  after  all — 
•what?  Oh,  I  knew  you  wouldn't  mind  it. 
Didn't  you  lug  me  on  your  shoulders  when 
I  was  a  papoose,  and  your  cursed  old  knee 
was  out  of  joint?  Hobbling  still,  are  you? 
That's  right.  So  you  remember  the  signals 
we  used  to  have  ten  years  ago,  'nd  let  in 
your  little  Sammy  that  had  been  away  so 
long!  He  been  through  great  lot  of  things 
since  he  saw  you  last,  granny.  Come  along 
up  to  th'  wigwam,  'nd  he'll  tell  you  about 
it." 

Nikomis  signified  her  willingness  to  lead 
the  way,  and  Sam,  having  slipped  off  his 
travel- stained  boots,  followed  her  up  to  the 
first  floor.  The  door  of  Cuthbert's  room 
stood  ajar;  the  half-breed  peeped  in,  and, 
seeing  how  soundly  the  inmate  slept,  he 


NIKOMIS'S  LODGER. 


213 


glided  stealthily  up  to  the  bedside.  Nikomis, 
who  had  remained  at  the  entrance,  saw  him 
8toop  down  and  listen  to  the  old  man's  low- 
drawn  breathing.  Then  he  drew  a  straight, 
narrow-bladed  knife  from  an  inner  pocket  of 
his  coat,  and  made  a  pass  with  it  toward  the 
sleeper's  heart.  Nilcomis  uttered  a  guttural 
exclamation,  loud  enough  to  have  waked 
Cuthbert  but  for  the  sleeping  potion  he  had 
taken,  and  clutched  forward  vehemently  with 
both  hands.  Sam  had  turned  the  point  aside 
just  as  it  arrived  within  a  hair's-breadth 
of  the  other's  breast ;  but  at  Nikomis's  cry 
he  uplifted  the  knife  again,  while  his  feat- 
ures took  on  a  more  sinister  expression  than 
they  had  yet  worn,  and  for  a  few  moments 
he  stood  in  position  to  strike,  watching  if 
Cuthbert's  eyelids  trembled.  But  he  lay  as 
quiet  and  untroubled  as  though  the  breadth 
of  the  world  had  interposed  between  him 
and  violence.  Sam  now  threw  a  glance  of 
jeering  defiance  toward  the  door,  turned  the 
knife  in  his  hand,  and,  with  a  rapid  motion 
of  the  wrist,  made  a  pretense  of  taking  Mr. 
Urmson's  scalp.  Then  slipping  the  weapon 
back  into  his  pocket,  and  laughing  one  of 
his  silent  laughs,  he  came  away. 

"  What  made  you  yell  out,  you  old  fool  ?  " 
he  said,  as  he  rejoined  Nikomis.  "  What 
should  you  care  'f  I  stuck  him  ?  I'd  'a  done 
it  'f  he'd  waked ;  'most  sorry  he  didn't.  Him 
and  Garth,  too,  curse  'em !  Where  is  Garth  ? 
Never  mind,  never  mind ;  I'd  cut  his  heart 
out  'f  I  were  to  see  him — couldn't  help  my- 
salf.  All  right,  all  right ;  we'll  be  even  with 
'em  some  day.  Come  on,  granny." 

They  creaked  up  the  attic-stairs  together, 
and  entered  Nikomis's  apartment.  It  was  at 
the  corner  of  the  garret  opposite  to  Garth's 
studio,  partitioned  off  from  the  intermediate 
space  by  a  rough  boarding,  and  lighted  by 
two  small  windows  cut  in  the  northern  and 
western  walls.  But  Nikomis  ignored  wood- 
en walls,  and  had  fitted  up  the  interior  in 
such  a  manner  as  vividly  to  recall  the  abo- 
riginal wigwam.  Seven  or  eight  bean-poles 
were  fixed  at  the  circumference  of  a  large 
circular  space  on  the  floor,  and  leaned 
toward  one  another  until  they  met  in  a 
clump  just  below  the  ceiling.  Around  this 
framework  were  draped  a  number  of  old 
skins  and  blankets,  so  that  the  whole  formed 


a  rude  tent,  quite  dark  within,  save  when 
the  loose  flap  that  served  as  a  door  was  fold- 
ed back.  When  this  was  done,  however, 
and  the  eyes  had  had  time  to  get  used  to  the 
gloom,  the  floor  was  seen  to  be  carpeted  with 
dried  sweet-fern;  and  the  bed  or  mattress 
at  one  side  was  formed  of  a  thicker  layer  of 
the  same  heathery  shrub,  covered  over  with 
a  threadbare  rug.  Around  the  sloping  sides 
of  the  structure  might  be  dimly  discerned 
various  savage  implements  and  trophies, 
while  strings  of  colored  beads,  charms,  med- 
icine-bags, and  a  number  of  quaint  utensils, 
such  as  only  an  inveterate  old  witch  like 
Nikotnis  could  have  imagined  any  use  for, 
glimmered  duskily  here  and  there.  But 
perhaps  the  most  impressive  sight,  albeit  the 
one  least  likely  to  be  discernible  to  prying 
eyes,  was  the  row  of  questionable  objects  dan- 
gling from  a  string  which  stretched  from  one 
side  to  another  of  the  wigwam,  at  about  a 
man's  height  from  the  floor.  They  resembled 
bunches  of  dried  sea-weed  as  much  as  any- 
thing, or  small  clots  of  turf,  with  long,  fine 
tufts  of  grass  depending  from  them.  In  fact, 
however,  they  were  no  such  innocent  mat- 
ter :  they  were  an  assortment  of  old,  smoke- 
dried  scalps,  cut  from  their  enemies'  heads 
by  Nikomis's  forefathers,  and  by  her  jealous- 
ly preserved  and  prized,  together  with  the 
bloody  legends  belonging  to  each  one  of 
them.  In  her  more  pensive  moments  the 
old  lady  may  be  supposed  to  have  derived 
as  much  consolation  from  a  view  of  these 
ghastly  mementos,  dully  illumined  by  the 
lurid  glow  from  the  bowl  of  her  tobacco- 
pipe,  as  would  a  more  civilized  personage 
from  the  gold-mounted  miniatures  of  her  de- 
ceased grandparents  and  uncles,  with  locks 
of  their  hair  braided  neatly  into  the  backs 
of  the  frames,  and  covered  over  with  glass. 
Into  this  retreat  did  Nikomis  introduce 
her  tall  companion,  bidding  him  make  him- 
self at  home  there.  He  glanced  about  some- 
what discontentedly,  and  would  plainly  have 
preferred  more  commodious  quarters,  eyen 
at  the  cost  of  a  good  part  of  the  aboriginal 
flavor.  But  there  was  no  present  oppor- 
tunity of  improving  matters,  and  he  was  fain 
to  content  himself  with  such  solace  as  lay  in 
a  pipe.  His  hostess's  rank  old  clays  failing 
to  suit  his  taste,  which  a  residence  abroad 


GARTH. 


seemed  to  have  rendered  fastidious,  he  un- 
locked his  hand-organ  and  rummaged  among 
the  medley  of  clothes,  toilet-articles,  skates, 
perfumed  letters,  and  other  persomil  furni- 
ture which  it  contained,  until  he  laid  hold 
of  a  finely-colored  meerschaum.  This  he 
filled  with  some  fragrant  tobacco  from  an 
oil-skin  bag,  and  then,  laying  himself  at 
length  upon  Nikomis's  sweet-fern  mattress, 
he  began  a  leisurely  account  of  his  advent- 
ures. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

CHANGES. 

To  judge  from  his  own  version  of  them, 
they  reflected  great  credit  upon  his  physical 
address  and  intrepidity,  upon  his  cunning, 
and  upon  his  freedom  from  moral  prejudices. 
Probably  he  described  his  ideal  self,  and  no 
doubt  he  occasionally  ornamented  the  events 
to  match  the  hero  of  them.  Nevertheless, 
the  main  thread  of  the  story  must  have  co- 
incided more  or  less  closely  with  the  truth, 
and  it  certainly  indicated  a  career  of  con- 
siderable vicissitude.  After  leaving  Urms- 
worth,  Sam,  as  we  know,  went  to  Newbury- 
port,  where  Cuthbert  supported  him  for  up- 
ward of  a  year  as  an  independent  apprentice 
at  the  gun-making  trade.  But  the  young 
fellow  had  altogether  too  much  ambition  to 
think  of  settling  down  in  life  as  a  gunsmith. 
About  the  time  that  his  tedium  was  ready 
to  drive  him  into  some  ill-advised  escapade 
or  other,  a  lucky  accident  occurred  to  him. 
It  was  the  year  of  the  robbery  of  the  New- 
buryport  Bank.  Neither  in  the  deed  itself 
nor  in  the  plotting  of  it  did  Sam  have  any 
hand ;  but  it  so  happened  that  a  pistol, 
whose  stock  he  recognized  as  his  own  handi- 
work, led  him  on  to  the  discovery  of  the 
criminals ;  and  so  coolly  and  astutely  did  he 
manage  matters  as  to  compel  their  purchase 
of  his  silence  at  the  price  of  no  less  than 
five  hundred  dollars.  Possessed  of  this  vast 
sum,  he  felt  that  the  world  lay  before  him, 
and  he  was  resolved  to  lose  no  time  in 
making  trial  of  it.  Ere  setting  forth,  how- 
ever, he  bethought  himself  that  it  would  be 
a  pleasant  thing  to  have  the  society  of  an 
agreeable  and  clever  companion  on  his  trav- 


els ;  and  he  made  a  secret  expedition  to 
Urmsworth  in  order  to  persuade  the  person 
of  his  choice  to  join  him.  She  hesitated 
and  wavered  long,  but  finally  yielded;  and 
it  was  in  Nikomis's  former  wigwam,  on  the 
borders  of  the  forest,  that  the  arrangements 
for  the  elopement  were  made.  It  was  on  a 
Saturday  evening,  about  the  middle  of  March, 
and  the  flight  was  to  take  place  the  night 
following.  All  went  well,  and  the  fugitives 
had  got  safely  to  the  borders  of  the  lake, 
and  were  almost  on  the  point  of  embarking 
on  Sam's  boat,  when  the  unexpected  appa- 
rition of  Garth,  stripped  to  his  waist,  and 
shooting  the  rapids  in  his  canoe,  changed  the 
young  lady's  mind.  After  a  brisk  dispute 
with  her  would-be  abductor,  the  pair  sepa- 
rated, she  stealing  quietly  back  to  the  little 
cottage  on  the  village  outskirts,  while  Sam 
rowed  across  the  lake  alone,  and  five  days 
later  sailed  out  of  Boston  Harbor  in  a  vessel 
bound  for  Liverpool. 

Over  the  first  five  or  six  years  of  his 
European  life  he  passed  very  lightly,  and  it 
is  not  improbable  that  he  may  have  looked 
back  upon  them  with  something  less  than 
pure  satisfaction.  His  money  was  soon  spent, 
and  he  set  himself  to  get  some  more.  At  one 
time  he  was  a  member  of  a  circus  troupe, 
and  by  his  own  account  achieved  vast  suc- 
cess as  a  bare-back  rider.  Later  he  engaged 
as  groom  in  the  family  of  an  English  noble- 
man connected  with  the  turf,  and  by  taking 
advantage  of  "private  information,"  he  con- 
trived to  land  a  large  sum  on  the  Derby  of 
that  year,  from  this  he  might  have  gone 
on  and  made  a  fortune,  had  he  not  unfortu- 
nately persuaded  himself,  with  cause  or  with- 
out, that  his  employer's  daughter,  whom  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  attending  on  her  rides, 
was  in  love  with  him.  In  the  midst  of  his 
hopes  he  received  a  summons  to  his  master's 
presence,  when  the  latter  handed  him  his 
wages  and  then  fell  upon  him  with  a  horse- 
whip. Sam  resisted:  the  nobleman  was 
worsted  in  the  fray ;  and  the  upshot  was,  that 
Sam  was  heavily  fined  for  assault  and  battery. 

He  now  left  England  and  crossed  over 
to  the  Continent.  Establishing  himself  at 
Baden-Baden,  he  cut  a  considerable  dash 
with  the  remains  of  his  Derby  winning?, 
gambled  with  a  good  deal  of  success,  and 


CHANGES. 


215 


was  accounted  a  personage  of  distinction. 
One  of  the  stock  countesses  of  the  place, 
however,  induced  him  to  enter  into  a  part- 
nership. At  the  critical  moment  the  out- 
raged husband  made  his  appearance,  picked 
his  quarrel  with  Sam,  and  demanded  satis- 
faction. This  he  received — though  in  an 
irregular  way.  Sam,  having  accepted  the 
challenge  for  the  next  morning,  provided 
himself  with  a  whip  and  a  pistol,  surprised 
the  countess  and  her  accomplice  at  their 
rooms  that  night,  forced  the  woman  to  gag 
the  man  and  tie  him,  half -naked,  to  the  bed- 
post ;  then  himself  did  a  like  service  for  her, 
and  grasping  his  whip,  set  to  work  with  a 
will  upon  both  his  enemies,  nor  held  his 
hand  until  both  hung  fainting  and  bloody 
before  him.  In  that  situation  did  he  leave 
them,  locking  the  door  upon  them  and  car- 
rying off  the  key  in  his  pocket.  The  next 
evening  he  was  safe  in  Paris,  though  with 
only  a  hundred  francs  in  his  purse,  and  the 
clothes  he  wore.  This  episode  Sam  related 
with  relish,  nor  did  Nikornis  withhold  the 
applause  of  glittering  eyes  and  sympathetic 
grunts. 

But  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  for  a 
long  time  thereafter  the  adventurer  expe- 
rienced almost  unmitigated  ill  luck,  and 
made  acquaintance  with  very  low  depths  of 
life  indeed.  lie  dodged  about  from  one  great 
city  to  another,  trying  his  fortune  at  cards, 
billiards,  thimble  -  rigging,  acrobatism,  or 
whatever  else  would  put  a  little  money  in 
his  scrip.  About  this  period  he  began  to  be 
aware  that  by  a  sort  of  continuous  coinci- 
dence he  kept  meeting  a  rather  good-look- 
ing, stylishly-dressed  gentleman,  who  seemed 
to  have  no  more  settled  residence  or  occu- 
pation than  himself,  but  who  uniformly  asso- 
ciated with  conspicuous  personages  lived  lux- 
uriously, and  fared  sumptuously  every  day. 
Sam  never  had  any  communication  with  this 
gentleman,  never  knew  who  he  was,  and  sel- 
dom got  near  enough  to  him  even  to  distin- 
guish the  sound  of  his  voice.  But  he  thought 
he  remembered  catching  a  glimpse  of  him 
on  the  day  of  his  landing  in  Liverpool ;  he 
believed  he  had  once  distinguished  his  blue 
eye-glasses  among  the  spectators  at  the  cir- 
cus, and  he  was  sure  he  had  seen  him  make 
a  bet  at  the  Derby,  and  afterward  drink  a 


glass  of  water  at  the  spring  in  Baden-Baden. 
By  degrees,  therefore,  he  came  to  regard 
him  as  somehow  connected  with  himself — a 
repetition,  in  a  higher  sphere  and  with  dis- 
tinguished fortune,  of  his  own  vagabond 
personality.  This  superstitious  fancy  af- 
fected Sam  differently  at  different  times. 
Now  he  felt  a  sort  of  irrational  attachment 
to  the  man  who  played  so  well  the  part  in 
the  world  which  it  was  his  own  ambition  to 
play;  now  he  hated  him  for  being  so  like 
and  yet  so  hopelessly  above  him.  At  one 
moment  he  hailed  him  as  an  omen  and  pre- 
figureinent  of  what  he  himself  was  destined 
to  become ;  at  another,  he  cursed  him  as  a 
tantalizing  ideal  which  he  never  would  at- 
tain. Sometimes  he  hoped  to  raise  himself 
to  his  level ;  sometimes  he  longed  for  the 
power  to  drag  him  down  to  his  own.  Oc- 
casionally months  would  go  by  without 
their  meeting ;  then,  again,  they  would 
seem  to  dog  each  other  week  after  week. 
Sam  wondered  what  the  issue  of  it  all 
would  be. 

lie  was  now  about  twenty-two  years  old, 
rather  striking  in  appearance,  with  manners 
smoothed  by  contact  with  mankind,  yet  re- 
taining enough  individual  flavor  to  bo  notice- 
able. His  faculties  were  alert  and  keen ; 
his  passions  violent  yet  cold ;  his  bodily 
vigor  and  versatility  were  much  beyond  the 
average.  His  native  stock  of  cunning  had 
been  considerably  enlarged,  and  he  had  rid 
himself  of  all  such  moral  and  social  preju- 
dices as  would  be  likely  to  impede  him  in 
the  struggle  for  existence.  He  desired  the 
good  of  no  living  creature  but  himself,  and 
he  was  ready  to  believe  evil  of  anything  or 
anybody.  On  the  whole,  his  chance  of  get- 
ting ahead  of  circumstances  was  worth  back- 
ing ;  but  what  he  desperately  needed  and 
could  not  obtain  was  a  secure  and  respect- 
able footing  from  which  to  act. 

One  day,  in  Vienna,  after  an  unusual 
run  of  luck  at  billiards,  which  had  enabled 
him  to  deck  himself  out  in  better  raiment 
than  ordinary,  he  strolled  into  a  handsome 
cafe  to  get  a  glass  of  brandy  and  a  cigar. 
From  his  table  he  could  see  through  a  half- 
open  door  into  an  inner  private  room,  where 
four  gentlemen  were  playing  cards.  Three 
of  these  Sam  knew  by  sight  as  persons  of 


216 


GARTH. 


consequence  in  the  city  —  wealthy  men, 
either  connected  with  the  government  or 
prominent  in  finance.  The  fourth,  who  sat 
nearest  the  door,  he  immediately  recognized 
as  his  man  of  destiny.  The  sight  occasioned 
him  no  surprise,  though  he  had  not  before 
known  that  the  mysterious  being  was  in 
Vienna.  Their  fates  were  intertwined,  al- 
though they  might  never  come  into  direct 
contact. 

The  game  was  one  which  Sam  held  in 
especial  favor,  perhaps  because  he  had  de- 
vised a  simple  but  exceedingly  ingenious 
trick  which  made  winning  almost  a  cer- 
tainty, while  detection  was  next  to  im- 
possible. All  that  was  required  in  it  were 
three  prepared  cards  and  a  fair  amount  of 
manual  dexterity.  As  the  swarthy  and 
saturnine  adventurer  moodily  watched  the 
play,  he  cursed  the  luck  that  prevented  him 
from  taking  a  hand  at  such  a  table.  "What 
was  the  use  of  sleight-of-hand  and  ingenuity 
if  one  had  only  shabby  fellows,  with  coppers 
in  their  pockets,  to  practise  upon?  One 
hour  in  the  chair  now  occupied  by  his 
unknown  other  self  would  be  worth  ten 
years'  swindling  of  empty  pockets.  "What 
he  lacked  was  a  word  of  introduction.  Once 
established  on  a  footing  with  good  society, 
his  fortune  thenceforth  would  be  secure. 
But  how,  in  the  name  of  Beelzebub,  was 
that  word  of  introduction  to  be  had  ? 

The  game  proceeded  with  varying  re- 
sults, only  the  stakes  became  higher  and 
higher.  All  at  once  Sam  had  a  sensation. 
Unless  his  eyes  deceived  him,  he  had  seen 
his  man  perform  precisely  the  trick  which 
Sam  knew  to  be  his  own  private  invention. 
He  rose  quietly  from  his  table  and  walked 
to  the  door  of  the  inner  room,  when  a  glance 
at  the  cards  convinced  him  that  he  had  not 
been  mistaken.  The  latest  and  strangest 
coincidence  had  taken  place,  and  it  had 
brought  their  long  correspondent  careers 
finally  into  collision.  Sam  returned  to  his 
table,  drank  off  his  brandy,  again  returned 
to  the  private  room,  and  entered  it  boldly. 
He  knew,  and  did  not  let  slip,  his  oppor- 
tunity. 

The  play  was  over ;  the  four  gentlemen 
were  standing  up,  talking  and  laughing,  the 
winner  carelessly  folding  up  and  placing  in 


his  pocket-book  a  dozen  or  so  of  hundred- 
thaler  bank-notes.  Sam  took  him  familiarly 
by  the  arm  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"  Act  as  if  you  knew  me,"  said  he  in 
English.  "  I  saw  you  do  that  trick.  You 
have  three  prepared  cards  in  your. pocket. 
I  can  have  you  searched  here  before  every- 
body, and  kicked  out  of  society.  I'll  do  it, 
unless  you  present  me  to  all  these  men  as 
your  particular  friend  Mr.  Flint.  Come, 
now!  " 

The  man,  upon  perceiving  Sam's  drift, 
partially  recovered  his  disturbed  equanimity, 
and  shook  hands  with  simulated  cordiality. 
The  ceremony  of  presentation  was  then 
punctiliously  performed,  and  the  disrepu- 
table half-breed  was  a  member  of  the  best 
society.  After  the  usual  compliments  had 
passed,  Sam  bade  his  sponsor  enlarge  upon 
their  early  intimacy,  and  allude  to  him  as  a 
young  gentleman  of  vast  wealth  and  highly 
connected.  The  command  was  obeyed,  and, 
as  in  a  fairy  tale,  the  beggar  was  trans- 
formed into  a  prince.  The  Baron  von 
Stecknadeln  invited  him  to  dine ;  Kriegs- 
rath  Pickelhaube  hoped  to  be  honored  by 
his  presence  at  the  reception  on  Sunday 
evening ;  the  banker  Groschenlieb  would 
feel  hurt  if  he  did  not  drop  in  at  his  read- 
ing-rooms the  next  morning.  Mr.  Flint 
gravely  bowed  his  acknowledgments.  Be- 
fore the  company  separated,  he  turned  again 
to  his  involuntary  benefactor  and  requested 
him  for  his  card,  remarking  that  he  must 
make  a  note  of  his  address.  It  was  given 
accordingly,  and  Sarn  read  upon  it  the  name 
of  Mr.  Golightley  Unnson. 

In  a  few  minutes  more  they  were  alone. 

"  I  want  six  hundred  thalers,"  said  Mr. 
Flint. 

"  You  may  go  to  the  devil ! "  said  Mr. 
Golightley  Urmson. 

"  Come,  now,  we'd  better  be  friends,  Mr. 
Urmson.  You're  all  right  for  this  time,  but 
you'll  be  wanting  to  play  that  same  game 
again  some  day,  and  then  I'll  be  there,  you 
depend.  No  use,  Mr.  Urmson,  old  boy ! 
You're  no  better  than  I  am,  'nd  you  needn't 
pretend  to  be.  Come,  now,  I  don't  want  to 
hurt  you  ;  'f  I  get  something  to  start  on,  I'll 
do  the  rest  for  myself.  Or  we'll  make  a 
pair  of  us,  if  you  like,  'nd  do  business  to- 


CHANGES. 


217 


gether.  Six  hundred  thalers,  old  boy  !  You 
wouldn't  want  me  to  discredit  your  intro- 
duction, would  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Golightley  Urmson  straightened  him- 
self, curled  forward  his  side-locks,  and  made 
his  tinted  eye-glasses  glisten  overawingly. 
lie  explained  that  he  was  not  what  Mr.  Flint 
took  him  for ;  that  this  had  been  the  first 
and  would  be  the  last  time  he  ever  cheated 
at  cards  ;  that  he  had  done  it  only-to  relieve 
a  temporary  embarrassment,  and  that  so  soon 
us  his  remittances  arrived  he  intended  giving 
the  gentlemen  their  revenge.  "  You  are  an 
impudent  rogue,"  he  added ;  "  but  you  hap- 
pened to  detect  me  in  an  action  which  I  re- 
gret, and  I  am  willing  to  regard  your  impu- 
dence as  a  timely  retribution  for  my — ah — 
fault.  I  don't  mind  giving  you  some  money 
as  a  free  gift— a  self-inflicted  penance.  Un- 
derstand, I  am  not  in  the  least  danger  from 
you,  nor  would  I  consent  to  be  intimidated 
if  I  were.  This  is  a  free — ah — contribution." 
Here  the  orator  magnificently  drew  forth  his 
pocket-book,  took  out  of  it  with  the  tips  of 
his  long  fingers  a  fold  of  bank-notes,  and, 
averting  his  eyes,  held  them  superciliously 
toward  Mr.  Flint.  "  Now  go  to  the  devil !  " 
he  repeated,  turning  away. 

"  Now  you  look  here,  old  boy,"  said  the 
other,  stepping  quickly. in  front  of  him  ;  "  I 
know  you  'nd  all  about  you.  I  know  what  part 
of  New  Hampshire  your  remittances  come 
from,  and  who  sends  'em.  I've  watched 
you  for  five  years  'nd  more.  You're  no  bet- 
ter than  I  am,  except  for  luck.  I  knew  we'd 
be  even  some  day,  whether  I  went  up  or 
you  went  down.  You've  kept  up  very  nice- 
ly, haven't  you,  and  know  all  the  fine  peo- 
ple ?  Very  well.  I'm  even  with  you  now, 
and  if  I  go  down,  you'll  go  with  me.  The 
same  devil  for  us  both,  old  boy !  I  shall  do 
all  right  without  you  for  a  while ;  but  if  I 
ever  get  in  any  scrape,  I  shall  use  your  name 
to  get  out  of  it  again.  Maybe  it'll  get  worn 
out  sooner  with  both  of  us  using  it,  but  it'll 
be  worn  out  for  you  'a  well  as  for  me.  So 
maybe  you'll  want  to  keep  me  out  of  scrapes 
—what?" 

"  I  cannot  consent  to  be  intimidated," 
Golightley  repeated,  still  fingering  his  side- 
locks  with  an  air  of  superiority,  and  begin- 
ning to  walk  off.  Mr.  Flint  allowed  him  to 


get  some  distance  away,  and  then  called  af- 
ter him,  in  a  tone  so  loud  as  to  attract  the 
notice  of  every  one  in  the  cafe,  "  Hi !  Urm- 
son, hold  on !  " 

Golightley  looked  over  his  shoulder  and 
paused.  "  Something  wrong  about  this 
money,"  called  Mr.  Flint,  not  moving  from 
his  easy  position  on  the  end  of  the  table, 
and  shaking  the  notes  in  the  air.  "  You've 
cheated  me  out  of — " 

Golightley  came  hastily  back.  Mr.  Flint 
had  spoken  in  German,  and  the  tenor  of  his 
remarks  did  not  promise  to  be  such  as  the 
public  ought  to  be  made  privy  to.  Golight- 
ley came  up  pale  and  a  little  tremulous,  either 
with  fury  or,  despite  his  disclaimer,  with  fury 
mingled  with  fear.  Mr.  Flint  ducked  down 
his  head  and  laughed.  "There's  only  five 
hundred  here,"  explained  he,  so  soon  as  he 
had  recovered  his  gravity.  "  Come  on,  now 
— another  hundred,  old  boy  !  " 

The  other  hesitated.  No  doubt  that,  for 
a  moment  or  two,  he  meditated  rebellion  at 
whatever  cost.  He  looked  into  Mr.  Flint's 
keen  black  eyes,  and  knew  that  he  had  to 
deal  with  a  man  more  unprincipled  and  more 
desperate  than  himself — a  man  who  had 
gained  a  most  unlucky  advantage  over  him, 
and  who,  moreover,  had  in  some  inexplicable 
manner  become  possessed  of  a  knowledge 
concerning  himself  and  his  private  affairs 
which  already  went  far  enough,  and  might, 
for  all  Golightley  knew,  extend  much  further. 
Of  Mr.  Flint,  on  the  other  hand,  Golightley 
knew  nothing ;  but,  as  he  looked  at  him,  he 
fancied  he  recollected  having  met  with  that 
swarthy,  sinister,  impenetrable  face  often 
before ;  it  had  haunted  him  for  years  past, 
like  an  evil  genius,  and  now,  at  last,  had 
fastened  its  ugly  hold  upon  him.  To  defy 
an  unknown,  unscrupulous,  hostile  power 
like  this  was  certainly  rash,  and  might  be 
fatal ;  nevertheless,  the  momentary  impulse 
to  do  so  was  almost  irresistible.  A  man's 
freedom,  when  it  is  first  threatened,  seems 
better  worth  preserving  than  honor,  reputa- 
tion, wealth,  or  any  other  thing.  Yet  it  so 
happens  that,  in  perhaps  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  freedom  is  sacrificed  in  the  end.  In  the 
present  instance  Golightley  had  greatly  weak- 
ened his  position  by  yielding  to  Mr.  Flint's 
first  approaches :  had  he  resisted  from  the 


218 


GARTH. 


outset,  all  might  have  been  well ;  but  he  had 
been  taken  too  utterly  by  surprise  to  weigh 
the  matter,  and  the  first  demands  made  upon 
him  had  seemed  to  be  such  as  it  could  do  no 
great  harm  to  grant.  By  so  doing,  however, 
he  had  crippled  his  independence,  and  to  re- 
trieve it  now  might  be  ruin.  He  hesitated 
for  nearly  a  minute,  while  Mr.  Flint  silently 
but  guardedly  watched  him.  It  is  hardly  too 
much  to  say  that  during  these  few  seconds 
Golightley  suffered  as  much  anguish  of  mind 
as  it  was  within  his  scope  to  feel.  Suddenly 
drops  of  sweat  started  out  on  his  forehead 
and  ran  down  into  his  beard.  He  hastily 
took  out  his  pocket-book,  thrust  the  note 
into  Mr.  Flint's  hand,  and  hurried  away. 
The  strength  seemed  to  have  slid  out  of  him. 
He  stumbled  once  or  twice  before  reaching 
the  street,  and  did  not  keep  his  chin  uplifted 
as  usual. 

Such,  in  effect,  is  the  version  of  this 
occurrence  which  Sam  confided  to  Nikomis. 
Perhaps  he  exaggerated  the  ease  and  com- 
pleteness of  his  own  victory,  and  under- 
stated the  prowess  of  his  antagonist ;  yet 
there  can  be  little  question  that  the  final 
result  of  the  contest  was  much  as  he  repre- 
sented it  to  be.  At  all  events,  his  worldly 
standing  underwent  a  transformation  forth- 
with. He  rose  at  once  to  the  higher  social 
strata.  His  Indian  strain  rather  helped  him 
than  the  contrary  in  his  intercourse  with 
polite  circles ;  his  foreign  appearance  was  a 
distinction,  the  more  because  no  one  knew 
from  what  nationality  he  sprang ;  and  he 
had  tact  enough,  and  a  sufficient  smattering 
of  languages,  to  satisfy  tolerably  well  the 
demands  of  fashionable  society.  He  lived 
by  his  wits  as  before,  but  the  opportunities 
and  the  gains  were  far  greater  ;  and  he  used 
so  much  caution  in  his  operations  as  for  the 
most  part  to  escape  even  suspicion.  With 
Golightley  he  wisely  interfered  as  seldom  as 
possible ;  although,  whenever  his  own  re- 
sources waned,  he  never  hesitated  to  demand, 
or  failed  to  receive,  assistance.  By  degrees 
the  relations  of  the  two  men  became  less 
hostile;  they  drifted  into  a  half-explicit 
partnership.  Either  Golightley's  moral  fibre 
continued  to  deteriorate,  or  he  tacitly  con- 
fessed himself  a  greater  rogue  than  he  had 
at  first  pretended.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he 


accepted  Mr.  Flint's  cooperation  in  several 
shady  strokes  of  business.  But  the  more 
closely  their  actual  interests  were  identified, 
the  further  did  they  retire  from  visible  in- 
timacy. The  breadth  of  Europe  was  more 
often  between  them  than  not ;  when  neces- 
sary, they  corresponded  through  the  post, 
and  once  in  a  while  they  had  an  interview. 
Life  went  on  with  them  pretty  comfort- 
ably, and  Mr.  Flint  at  least  greatly  en- 
joyed himself.  His  physical  accomplish- 
ments aided  to  render  him  somewhat  con- 
spicuous :  as  a  horseman,  a  hunter,  and  a 
swordsman,  he  was  in  high  repute ;  and 
once,  after  skating  before  Czar  Nicholas  of 
Russia,  that  potentate  personally  expressed 
to  him  his  satisfaction,  and  gave  him  a 
diamond  ring,  which  Sam  still  retained — 
less,  perhaps,  out  of  sentiment  than  as  a 
resource  in  the  hour  of  adversity. 

"  Why  you  make  look  so  poor  now, 
Sam  ? "  demanded  Nikomis,  at  this  point, 
recurring  to  the  question  which  had  puzzled 
her  at  the  outset ;  since,  for  all  he  had  said 
thus  far,  there  seemed  no  reason  why  her 
grandson  should  not  be  as  affluent  as  at  any 
period  of  his  career. 

"  Oh,  well,  granny,  Golightley's  here, 
isn't  he  ?  S'  long  as  he's  rich,  I  sha'n't  stay 
so  very  poor — he  1  he !  he !  Madge  says 
he's  going  to  be  married,  and  I  s'pose," 
added  Sam  humorously,  "  he'll  like  having 
me  best  man  at  his  wedding." 

"  You  seen  Madge  ? "  asked  Xikomis,  a 
little  jealously. 

"  Seen  her  this  morning ;  mighty  pretty 
girl  she  is  now,  granny — mighty  nice !  She 
told  me  something  I  didn't  know  before," 
he  continued,  after  a  pause,  throwing  a 
sharp  glance  at  the  old  woman.  "  I  knew 
who  your  daughter-in-law  was  before, 
granny ;  but  you  never  told  me  how  kind 
j  my  grandpa  had  been  to  me — what?  Oh, 
no,  I'm  not  so  very  poor,  after  all,  gran- 
ny." 

u  What  you  going  to  do  with  Madge  ? " 
asked  Nikomis,  passing  over  these  allusions. 

"  What  d'  you  want  me  to  do  ? " 

"  Ugh !  marry  her,"  said  Nikomis. 

Sam  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe 
and  laughed  silently  to  himself.  "  She 
mighty  pretty  girl,  granny,"  was  all  his 


CHANGES. 


219 


reply.  After  refilling  and  lighting  his  pipe, 
he  said :  "  Old  Golightley's  got  ahead  of  me 
this  time.  They  can't  touch  him  till  they've 
caught  me.  No  evidence  against  him,  'less 
I  give  it.  Tell  you  what,  though,  I  don't 
care.  I  spent  all  my  share,  'nd  if  they  track 
me  down,  I'll  peach  on  him.  Damn  hi:n, 
he  had  more  'n  half  the  money,  anyway,  'nd 
I'll  do  it,  'less  he  gives  me  half  what  he's 
got." 

"  You  stolen  money,  Sam  ? — stolen  money 
right  out  ?  Whose  money — um  ?  " 

"  What  you  looking  so  glum  about, 
granny?"  returned  Sam,  with  a  passing 
«cowl.  "  What  do  you  care  whose  money 
it  was  ?  It  was  Golightley's  stealing,  any- 
way ;  he  put  mo  up  to  it,  'nd  then  covered 
all  his  own  tracks,  curse  him  !  " 

"  Nikomis  sorry  you  a  thief,  Sam,"  said 
the  old  squaw,  with  a  grim  solemnity  of  man- 
ner different  from  her  hitherto  submissive 
and  fond  demeanor.  "  Nikomis  never  been 
a  thief.  You  might  have  had  my  money. 
Me  sorry  you  came  here  'fraid  to  show  your- 
self. Nikomis  never  'fraid  to  show  myself." 

u  Never  mind,  granny,  Garth  'nd  Cuth- 
bert  can't  deny  the  legacy — that's  safe,  any- 
way." 

"  Don't  know  'bout  that,"  said  Nikomis, 
shaking  her  head.  "  Maybe  Golightley 
spent  all  that.  Besides,  how  you  going  to 
make  show  it's  yours  ?  " 

"  You've  got  the  papers,  haven't  you,  to 
prove  who  I  am  ?  "  exclaimed  Sam,  jerking 
himself  suddenly  up  on  his  elbow.  "  Damn 
you,  you  haven't  lost  them  ?  Madge  said 
you  had  'em.  Come,  now,  granny,  no  non- 
sense !  " 

"  Ugh  !  Madge.  You  better  ask  her  for 
'em,  then,"  retorted  the  Indian,  with  a 
gleam  of  sullen  resentment.  "  Maybe  she 
got  'em." 

"By  the  devil,  you  old  hag,"  said  Sam, 
sitting  up  with  a  threatening  look,  "  didn't 
I  tell  you,  no  nonsense?  What  you  done 
with  those  papers,  now  ?  I  want  'em." 

"  You  cut  my  heart  out,  Sam,"  was  Ni- 
komis's  reply,  sitting  grimly  impassive  be- 
fore him.  "  Maybe  you  find  the  papers  in- 
side me." 

The  other  threw  himself  back  on  his 
mattress,  with  something  between  a  snarl 


and  a  snicker.  Plainly  his  grandparent  was 
not  to  be  intimidated,  and  since  she  alono 
could  establish  his  claim  to  the  Eve  legacy, 
he  had  made  a  mistake  in  trying  to  bully 
her.  She  must  be  cajoled  into  good-humor ; 
though,  as  to  the  probable  cause  of  her 
sudden  perversity,  Sam  was  quite  in  the 
dark. 

And,  indeed,  such  waywardness  might 
well  appear  singular.  During  many  years 
Sam  had  been  the  old  woman's  hero.  She 
had  seen  in  him  the  instrument  of  retribu- 
tion upon  the  traditional  enemies  of  her 
tribe.  In  his  absence  she  had  adorned  him 
with  every  stern  or  subtle  quality  that  an- 
swered in  her  savage  code  for  virtues,  and 
had  looked  forward  to  his  return  as  to  the 
proud  consummation  of  her  life  ;  she  was  no 
squeamish  moralist,  and  her  decalogue  had 
little  in  common  with  the  Mosaic,  one.  Nev- 
ertheless she  owned  her  prejudices,  and  next 
to  cowardice  disdained  vulgar  theft.  A  man 
might  conquer  men  by  open  violence,  or 
by  superior  craft  if  force  were  unavailing ; 
but  tamely  to  steal  was  beneath  the  dig- 
nity of  a  true  Indian,  descendant  of  mighty 
sachems. 

In  short,  deep-seated  and  long-suffering 
though  Nikomis's  affection  was,  it  could  not 
stand  the  strain  of  her  contempt ;  and  Sam's 
shameless  avowal  of  his  shame  had  fortified 
her  scorn.  Moreover,  the  thought  that  en- 
riching him  meant  impoverishing  the  Urm- 
sons  bore  weightily  against  him.  For,  al- 
though theoretically  hostile  toward  Garth 
and  his  father,  their  charitable  and  kindly 
conduct  toward  her  throughout  the  past 
years  had  not  been  without  effect ;  insomuch 
that  at  this  crisis  she  found  herself,  not  a 
little  to  her  own  surprise,  taking  their  part 
against  her  grandson  and  herself.  It  was  a 
strange  transformation,  albeit  by  the  logic 
of  circumstances  inevitable.  Revenge,  if  put 
off  too  long,  is  apt  to  become  an  irksome 
affair,  the  realization  of  which  would  bring 
more  disaster  than  its  defeat.  Yet  it  might 
be  rash  to  credit  Nikomis,  on  the  strength  of 
her  quarrel  with  Sam,  with  an  abandonment 
of  all  sinister  designs  against  the  Urrasons. 
Her  nature  was  a  dark  and  involved  one,  and 
she  was  probably  capable  of  shielding  her 
foe  from  an  unworthy  tomahawk,  only  in 


220 


GARTH. 


order  to  butcher  him  herself  with  proper  f 
respect  afterward. 

Meanwhile,  before  Sam  could  reopen  the 
conversation  upon  a  more  conciliatory  basis, 
Elinor's  knock  at  the  outer  door  of  the  house 
put  an  end  to  the  interview  for  the  time 
being.  Nikomis,  who  supposed  the  visitor 
to  be  Mrs.  Tenterden,  prepared  to  go  down ; 
and  the  half-breed,  with  his  pipe  still  be- 
tween his  teeth,  turned  on  his  side  and  com- 
posed himself  for  a  nap.  Nikomis,  at  the 
door  of  the  wigwam,  turned  round,  with  the 
flap  in  her  hand,  and  looked  within.  There 
lay  Sam,  the  darkest  object  in  the  darkness, 
as  he  was  the  least  heroic  in  her  regard. 
With  a  grunt  the  old  Indian  let  the  flap  fall 
over  the  opening,  and  so  made  the  darkness 
uniform  and  complete.  Then  she  turned 
away,  and  slowly  hobbled  down  the  garret- 
stairs.  She  had  blotted  her  grandson  out. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 
MADGE'S   VICISSITUDES. 

ALTHOUGH  Nikomis  had  opposed  a  toler- 
ably impassive  front  toward  her  degenerate 
grandson,  her  heart  was  secretly  bitter  with 
its  unsunned  wrath,  and  she  retired  in  a 
mood  to  avenge  herself  upon  friend  and  foe 
alike.  Had  she,  at  this  juncture,  encountered 
Mrs.  Tenterden  instead  of  Elinor,  the  for- 
mer's constitutional  timidity  and  want  of 
tact,  acting  upon  the  sardonic  and  exasper- 
ated temper  of  the  Indian,  might  easily  have 
brought  on  a  catastrophe.  But  after  her 
brief  and  vehement  altercation  with  the 
younger  lady,  the  old  witch  withdrew  in  a 
state  of  such  composure  as  often  results  from 
the  meeting  together  of  two  strenuous  men- 
tal atmospheres.  Yet  the  storm  may  have 
been  rather  postponed  than  dissipated,  the 
exciting  causes  remaining.  Nikomis  might 
yet  find  occasion  to  relieve  her  soul. 

Madge,  after  her  interview  with  Sam  in 
the  small  hours  of  the  morning,  had  returned 
to  her  chamber  glowing  with  pleasurable  ex- 
citement. Lying  upon  her  bed,  her  hands 
clasped  between  her  cheek  and  the  pillow, 
and  her  dark,  sparkling  eyes  looking  into  the 
darkness,  she  had  meditated  until  dawn.  At 


an  early  hour  she  left  the  house  and  betook 
herself  to  Urmhurst,  which  she  entered  noise- 
lessly by  the  kitchen-door.  A  few  minutes 
afterward  she  was  standing  (as  Sam  had 
stood  two  or  three  hours  before,  and  as  Sel- 
wyn  was  to  do  not  long  afterward)  by  Cuth- 
bert's  bedside. 

"  He  looks  dead,"  she  thought  to  herself. 
"What  if  he  and  Garth  were  dead — it's  all 
so  silent  here!  "  She  shook  her  head.  "  I 
shouldn't  like  it;  I  don't  want  it  to  be  so. 
Death  is  disgusting;  besides,  then,  every- 
thing would  happen  because  there  was  no 
help  for  it,  and  there  would  be  no  chance  of 
changing  one's  mind,  nor  of  having  one's 
way  in  spite  of  difficulty.  I  like  uncertainty. 
I  would  not  murder  anybody ;  death  is  hate- 
ful ;  but  for  death  the  world  would  be  good, 
because  there'd  be  time  enough  for  every  one 
to  get  what  he  wanted  out  of  life.  No 
one  is  really  wicked — only  some  have  to  do 
more  in  order  to  enjoy  themselves  than 
others.  If  Mr.  Urmson,  for  instance,  wanted 
to  do  all  I  mean  to  do,  he'd  have  to  be  more 
wicked  than  I  expect  to  be.  But  he  is 
clever!  he's  the  only  man  who  ever  came 
near  understanding  me.  If  my  poor  Garth 
were  half  so  keen — " 

As  the  thought  of  Garth  entered  her 
mind,  she  slowly  moved  toward  his  chamber; 
but  on  reaching  the  door  she  opened  it 
brusquely.  The  face  upon  the  pillow  lay 
with  its  hollow,  half-opened  eyes  turned  tow- 
ard her,  while  the  lips  moved  in  indistinct 
mutterings.  Madge's  warm,  brilliant  visage 
at  first  expressed  aversion,  but  soon  curiosity 
seemed  to  become  dominant.  She  drew  near 
and  laid  her  white  hand,  firm  and  tenacious, 
despite  its  softness  and  dimples,  on  Garth's 
bony  wrist,  and  tried  to  catch  his  unrecog- 
nizing  eye  with  her  own. 

"  What  an  unlucky  fellow  he  is !  "  ran  her 
thoughts;  "I  wish  he  were  not;  but  that 
has  always  been  the  trouble  with  him.  I 
could  never  get  on  with  unlucky  people,  be- 
cause I  don't  mean  to  be  unlucky  myself.  I 
wish  disagreeable  people  might  be  the  only 
unfortunate  ones,  and  all  the  agreeable, 
lucky !  See  what  a  man  Garth  is,  in  spite 
of  his  troubles !  Any  one  else  would  look 
effeminate  and  silly  after  such  an  illness,  but 
he  seems  only  older  and  manlier.  I  like  that 


MADGE'S  VICISSITUDES. 


221 


coarse,  black  beard.  He  suits  me — Garth, 
you  suit  me,  on  the  whole,  better  than  any 
one  else.  Why  won't  you  be  what  I  want 
you  to  be?  But  you  won't,  and  if  you  did  I 
suppose  it  would  spoil  you  somehow — how 
provoking!  I  love  him  for  not  being  what 
he  must  be  if  I'm  to  marry  him  !  Dear  me ! 
what  will  become  of  me?  I  wish  I  knew 
what  had  become  of  some  woman  who  was 
like  me,  and  had  felt  as  I  do  when  she  Avas  a 
girl.  .  .  .  People  here  will  be  surprised  when 
they  hear  of  me,  years  from  now — shocked, 
too,  I  suppose."  She  laughed  under  her 
breath,  stroking  Garth's  unresponsive  hand 
with  hers. 

"  And  what  will  you  think,  my  Garth  ?  " 
she  whispered,  bending  over  him.  "  O  Garth, 
you  mustn't  die !  I  shouldn't  half  enjoy 
anything  afterward — I  should  be  thinking 
that  perhaps  I  might  have  been  happier  with 
you.  And  so  I  should  be — if  there  weren't 
so  many  ways  of  being  happy !  I  should  like 
to  try  them  all,  and  then  come  back  to  him. 
No — dear  me  1  I  don't  know  what  I  do  most 
want,  and  that's  the  worst  of  it.  I  don't 
want  Golightley ;  and  Sam.  .  .  ."  She 
rested  her  forefinger  on  her  smooth  cheek 
and  meditated  for  several  moments.  Sud- 
denly rousing  herself,  she  drew  a  long  breath, 
glanced  toward  the  door,  and  then  crouched 
down  till  her  face  was  on  a  level  with  her 
lover's,  and  his  feverish  breath  mingled  with 
hers. 

"Never  mind  about  Sam,  Garth  dear," 
she  whispered.  "  You  are  the  best,  no  mat- 
ter what  happens.  They  may  say  I  don't 
love  you — but  feel  this,  dear !  "  She  pressed 
her  mouth  to  his  parched  lips,  and  more  than 
one  heart-beat  passed  ere  she  removed  it. 
"  Do  you  think  I  would  have  done  that  for 
Sam? "  she  asked,  smiling.  " Have  you  poi- 
soned me,  my  Garth  ?  "  Again  she  kissed 
him,  deliberately  as  before,  and  afterward 
yet  a  third  time.  "  Shall  I  have  the  fever 
and  die?  Let  them  say  I  didn't  love  you 
now,  if  they  dare !  "  She  sprang  to  her  feet. 
"Good-by,  Garth,"  she  said,  waving  her 
hand,  her  face  and  figure  radiant  with  life. 
"  If  I  have  poison  on  my  lips — Sam  shall  be 
poisoned  too !  and  you  won't  be  jealous,  will 
you  ? " 

From  Garth's  chamber  Madge  descended 


to  the  kitchen,  and,  building  up  a  fire  there, 
proceeded  to  cook  herself  a  comfortable 
breakfast.  By  the  time  this  was  eaten  it  was 
nearly  ten  o'clock,  and  she  was  preparing  to 
go  up-stairs  to  the  wigwam  when  the  sound 
of  knocking  at  the  outside  door  made  her 
pause,  and  conceal  herself  in  the  alcove :  for 
she  did  not  wish  her  presence  at  Urmhurst 
to  be  known  just  at  present  to  Mrs.  Tenter- 
den  (whom  she  supposed  the  new  arrival  to 
be).  But  when,  after  entering  the  house, 
Elinor  walked  into  the  kitchen  with  her 
violin  under  her  arm,  Madge,  in  her  surprise, 
stepped  on  a  creaking  board,  and  Elinor's 
eyes  at  once  turned  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound.  The  next  moment,  however,  all  risk 
of  discovery  was  over  ;  Elinor  left. the  kitch- 
en and  went  up-stairs.  Madge  listened,  and 
soon  heard  the  sound  of  voices  in  dispute ; 
then  ensued  a  silence;  and  finally  the  old 
Indian  came  hobbling  down  and  was  received 
by  Madge  with  an  engaging  smile. 

The  two  exchanged  a  few  words  together 
— affable  on  Madge's  part  and  sulky  on  that 
of  Nikomis — and  then  the  former  made  her 
way  to  the  garret.  As  she  passed  Garth's 
door,  the  sound  of  music  from  within  made 
her  pause  a  moment.  What  right  had  Eli- 
nor to  play  to  Garth?  Madge  had  never 
yet  found  occasion  to  be  jealous,  but  it  did 
now  occur  to  her  that  here  was  an  infringe- 
ment of  her  proprietorship.  Should  she  go 
in  and  protest  ?  No — she  desired  no  present 
outbreak  with  Elinor;  moreover,  to  assert 
exclusive  rights  over  her  lover  would  tend 
to  cripple  her  freedom  of  action.  She  passed 
on,  therefore ;  but  the  episode  had  its  effect : 
a  woman  like  Madge  knows  how  to  use  a 
provocation  both  as  a  handle  against  an  op- 
ponent and  as  a  justification  of  wider  liber- 
ties on  her  own  part. 

"Come  in,  Madge,"  said  Sam,  with  a 
yawn,  rolling  himself  over  on  the  mattress 
at  the  summons  of  her  voice  at  the  wigwam 
entrance.  "  Come  in — all  at  home !  " 

"  Come  outside  immediately,  Sam  Kineo," 
retorted  she,  with  dignity.  "  I  wish  to  speak 
with  you." 

"By  the  devil,  you  can  order  a  chap 
round!"  muttered  he,  crawling  out  on  his 
hands  and  knees  and  looking  up  at  her. 
"  Hi !  she  is  a  beauty,  sure  enough." 


222 


GARTH. 


"  That'll  do  for  compliments,"  said 
Madge,  in  a  tone  of  decision;  "and  be  so 
kind  as  to  use  proper  language  when  you 
speak  to  me.  Are  those  your  best  clothes  ?  " 

"  Good  enough  to  lie  in  a  garret  with, 
aren't  they?  I've  better  in  the  box  when 
the  time  comes." 

"I  wish  you  to  come  to  the  village  with 
me  this  afternoon,  and  be  introduced  to 
everybody ;  so  you  had  better  put  them  on 
soon." 

Sam  chuckled  sardonically.  "  I  think  I 
won't  appear  in  society  this  afternoon,  thank 
you,"  said  he.  "  Some  people  might  be  too 
glad  to  see  me." 

44  Afraid  of  the  police !  "  exclaimed  Madge, 
scornfally ;  and  added,  with  a  favorite  phrase 
of  hers,  "  If  I  were  a  man  I'd  never  be  afraid 
or  ashamed  to  face  anybody." 

"  Oh,  you  can  talk  about  police ;  but  how 
is  a  chap  to  face  the  United  States  army  ? " 
demanded  Sam,  sulkily. 

"If  you'd  had  any  sense,  Sam  Kineo, 
you  would  have  got  all  you  wanted  without 
interfering  with  the  law  at  all." 

"  Gently  now,  Madge,  that's  a  little  dear. 
If  you'd  been  with  me,  it  would  ha'  been  all 
right,  no  doubt ;  but  you  wouldn't  come 
when  I  asked  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  .1  am  to  marry 
Garth  Urmson  I've  nothing  to  do  with 
you." 

"  Marry  Garth — eh  ?  curse  him !  If  you'd 
said  that  last  night,  I'd  have  cut  his  heart 
out  for  him  this  morning." 

Madge  laughed.  "  You  haven't  forgotten 
how  he  thrashed  you  when  you  were  boys. 
But  you  mustn't  think  I'm  so  foolish  as  I 
was  in  those  days.  Do  you  suppose  I'd 
run  away  with  an  escaped  robber  when  I 
might  stay  at  home  and  marry  a  prosperous 
artist?" 

The  half-breed  fastened  his  narrow,  level 
glance  on  the  young  woman's  blooming  face. 
*'  You  look  here  now,"  muttered  he ;  "  I'm 
not  so  foolish  now  as  then,  either.  You've 
fooled  me  twice  in  my  life,  and  that's  enough. 
You  may  call  me  an  escaped  robber,  but  I'll 
be  an  escaped  something  else  before  I'll  see 
you  and  Garth  come  together !  " 

Madge  drew  nearer  her  companion  and 
rested  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "  What  fun!  " 


said  she.  "  It's  quite  romantic  to  hear  you 
talk  that  way.  Do  it  some  more,  won't 
you?" 

"No  need  of  that,"  returned  the  half- 
breed.  "  You  know  what  I  mean." 

"How  stupid  you  are!  I  thought  you 
would  be  at  least  as  entertaining  as  Golight- 
ley;  but  he  is  ever  so  much  better  than  you 
are." 

"Golightley  Urmson  is  no  better  than 
I  am,"  returned  Sam,  moodily ;  "  and  I'll 
make  him  feel  it  before  I'm  done  with  him. 
Maybe  you  didn't  know  that  he  and  I  were 
pals?" 

Though  there  were  few  things  which 
Madge  knew  better  than  this,  she  chose  to 
express  proper  surprise,  and  so  drew  from 
Sam  the  same  story  which  he  had  just  told 
Nikomis,  together  with  some  further  partic- 
ulars which  Nikomis  had  not  heard.  An 
hour  or  two  passed  away  in  the  narration, 
when  it  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  summons 
rapped  out  upon  the  house-door  below. 

"That  sounds  like  a  policeman!"  ex- 
claimed Madge,  maliciously. 

She  rose  as  she  spoke ;  but  to  her  aston- 
ishment Sam  caught  her  wrist  and  violently 
dragged  her  down  again.  "If  that's  the 
police,"  whispered  he,  between  his  teeth, 
"  it's  a  bad  day  for  you,  Madge  Danver !  " 

"I  hope  it  is  the  police,"  she  cried,  pas- 
sionately, struggling  to  free  her  wrist. 

By  a  rapid  movement,  Sam  pinioned  the 
girl,  and  pushed  her  back  against  the  hand- 
organ  box.  She  struggled  desperately,  and, 
being  exceedingly  strong  for  a  woman,  would 
probably  have  escaped  from  a  man  less  pow- 
erful than  Kineo.  But  he  gripped  her  like  a 
vise,  and  his  fingers  sank  deep  into  the  firm 
flesh  of  her  arms.  At  length,  with  short 
breath  and  cheeks  afire,  she  gasped,  "If  you 
don't  loose  me,  I'll  scream." 

"  Then  I'll  cut  your  throat,"  he  hissed  in 
her  ear.  "  Curse  you,  I  can  hate  easier  than 
love  you.  You  little  jade !  think  you  could 
bully  me?" 

"Sam,  let  me  go!" 

He  gripped  her  tighter,  and  snickered. 
"  Want  to  marry  dear  Garth,  do  you?  You 
little  liar !  How'd  you  like  to  see  that 
pretty  scalp  of  yours  hanging  there  with  the 
others— eh  ? " 


POISON. 


223 


u  Sam— I'll  never  be  false  to  you." 

"Wait  till  I  cut  your  throat,  my  little 

r — then  1  might  trust  you.  Think  I  for- 
got how  you  lied  about  me  to  Garth  ten 
years  ago  ?  I'd  not  trust  you  out  of  reach 
of  my  knife  for  all  Golightley's  money  and 
Mother  Eve's  legacy  put  together !  " 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  We'll  see,  my  little  dear.  If  you've  set 
the  police  on  me  ....  hush !  " 

Madge  Danver,  full  of  life  as  she  was, 
would  rather  have  died  than  endure  the  sus- 
pense of  the  minute  that  followed.  A  man's 
step,  resolute,  and  vigorous,  was  audible  on 
the  lower  flight  of  stairs.  Who  could  it  be  ? 
Had  some  hideous  fatality  actually  brought 
the  police  to  the  house,  at  this  moment  of 
all  others?  If  that  vigorous  step  kept  on 
up  the  garret-stairs,  Sam  would  murder  her, 
in  the  belief  that  she  was  an  accomplice 
against  him.  He  held  her  rigidly  down, 
though  she  had  ceased  struggling,  and  they 
were  both  listening  intently.  As  she  lay 
there,  her  memory  reviewed  all  her  past  re- 
lations with  this  man,  and  she  fancied  that, 
beneath  her  uniformly  arrogant  bearing  tow- 
ard him,  she  had  always  harbored  a  secret 
fear — nay,  had  even  foreseen  the  present  cri- 
sis, and  herself  at  his  mercy.  She  was  con- 
quered, perhaps  in  the  only  way  that  such  a 
woman  could  be  conquered,  by  sheer  physi- 
cal force  and  brutality.  And  as  she  panted 
in  the  grasp  of  the  man  who  had  conquered 
her,  and  who  might  the  next  moment  be- 
come her  murderer,  she  felt  a  strange  and 
new  satisfaction  in  him.  He  was  the  incar- 
nation of  power,  irresponsible  and  irresisti- 
ble ;  and  he  could  not  have  hit  upon  a  bet- 
ter way  of  wooing  this  wayward  creature. 
She  might  be  quicker-witted  than  he,  but 
his  muscles  had  forced  her  to  the  brink  of 
eternity,  and  the  superiority  was  a  real  and 
substantial  one. 

Meantime  the  steps  had  paused  on  the 
bedroom-floor,  and  there  was  a  low  murmur 
of  voices.  Was  the  officer  showing  a  search- 
warrant,  and  demanding  information?  As 
the  two  strained  their  ears  to  listen,  it  sud- 
denly came  into  Madge's  mind  that  of  course 
the  enigmatic  stranger  could  be  none  other 
than  Jack  Selwyn.  Instantly  the  painful 
tension  of  her  mind  and  body  relaxed,  she 


broke  into  a  faint,  tremulous  laugh,  and  mur- 
muring, "It's  all  right,  Sam — I'm  so  glad!  " 
her  head  drooped  over  sideways,  and  she 
fainted  away. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

POISOX. 

SAM  loosed  his  victim  with  a  grant  of 
surprise,  and  saw  her  topple  over  toward 
the  right  and  lie  limp  and  insensible  on  the 
floor.  Before  he  could  make  up  his  mind 
what  to  do  next,  Nikomis  had  entered.  At 
sight  of  Madge  she  stopped  short ;  then  fixed 
her  eyes  on  Sam.  "  You  fool !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, gutturally,  "you  killed  her?" 

"  Not  I !  "  replied  the  half-breed ;  "  she's 
fainted,  that's  all.  "Who  came?" 

"  No  one  t'  hurt  you,"  grunted  the  In- 
dian, stooping  over  the  girl. 

It  was  not  long  before  Madge  began  to 
gasp  and  sigh,  and  the  color  to  flow  back  to 
lips  and  cheek.  Anon  she  upraised  her- 
self giddily  on  one  arm,  and  put  her  other 
hand  over  her  heart,  afterward  holding  up 
the  fingers,  as  if  to  see  whether  they  were 
bloody. 

"I  thought  yon  had  stabbed  me,"  she 
murmured  with  a  shudder. 

Sam  felt  ill  at  ease ;  the  glow  of  his  fe- 
rocity had  cooled,  and  it  did  not  occur  to ' 
him  that  Madge  could  be  free  from  resent- 
ment at  his  treatment  of  her.  He  had  prob- 
ably been  carried  beyond  his  original  inten- 
tion by  mere  savage  excitement ;  but  he 
was  alarmed  to  think  how  narrowly  he  had 
missed  committing  a  crime  objectless  in  it- 
self, and  sure  to  have  been  fatally  disastrous 
to  him.  • 

"  Come,  now,  forgive  and  forget !  "  said 
he,  sitting  down  by  Madge,  and  assuming  his 
most  agreeable  manner.  "  What's  the  use 
of  you  and  me  bearing  malice,  Madge?  " 

Madge  gazed  at  him  thoughtfully  for  a 
while,  saying  at  last  with  a  sigh:  "Yon  are 
a  real  devil,  Sam,  aren't  you  ? — No,  don't 
mind  my  saying  it.  I  think  a  real  devil  is 
what  I  need.  I  shall  never  forget  how  yon 
looked.  .  .  ."  Here  she  shuddered  again. 
"  No  one  but  you  would  have  treated  me  so 
— I  am  so  beautiful.  Any  one  else  would 


GARTH. 


have  relented.  But  what  can  you  be  made 
of?" 

"Flesh  and  blood,  ain't  I?" 

"  "Well,  perhaps ! "  She  eyed  him  curious- 
ly. "Can  you  really  be  my  hero?  I  ought 
to  hate  you.  It  isn't  quite  pleasant  to  have 
been  conquered,  after  all." 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  have  hurt  you,"  affirmed 
Sam,  reassuringly. 

There  was  a  gleam  in  the  young  woman's 
eyes  as  she  answered :  "  If  I  believed  that,  I 
would  despise  you  as  well  as  hate  you.  But 
it's  false  ;  you  meant  to  do  it !  "  She  raised 
her  hand  and  laid  it  on  his  shoulder  appeal- 
ingly.  "Don't  you  disappoint  me,  too!  I 
have  tried  so  many  things  ;  I'm  tired.  Don't 
speak  any  more  about  it ;  you  don't  under- 
stand me  ;  you'd  only  say  something  stupid." 

It  was  true  that  Madge  was  a  mystery  to 
the  half-breed ;  yet  he  was  shrewd  enough 
to  perceive  that  his  violence  had  somehow 
not  wholly  displeased  her.  Perhaps  the  right 
way  to  win  a  woman's  heart  was  to  threaten 
it  with  a  bowie-knife.  However  evil  are  a 
man's  deeds,  he  may  generally  be  persuaded 
that  some  involuntary  virtue  is  mixed  up 
with  them ;  and,  however  bad  he  may  be,  the 
virtuous  persuasion  flatters  him. 

"  It  was  Jack  Selwyn  who  came,"  re- 
marked Madge,  after  a  pause.  "A  friend 
of  Garth's;  they  were  in  Europe  together. 
Did  you  never  meet  him  ? " 

"Selwyn? — hold  on!  a  slender,  sharp- 
eyed  chap,  always  dressed  well?  By  the 
devil,  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  did  know  him, 
after  all!  Selwyn.  You  knew  he  was  go- 
ing to  be  here — eh? " 

"  Yes.    Does  he  know  you  by  sight  ?  " 

"  Not  he !  knows  Golightley,  though ; 
Golightley  thought  he  suspected  something." 

"At  all  events,  Selwyn  knows  all  about 
the  robbery,  and  I  think  he's  after  you." 
She  was  speaking  in  a  faint,  listless  tone, 
and  Sam  sat  motionless,  his  dark  face  set  in 
malevolent  abstraction.  Nikomis  had  re- 
tired into  the  wigwam  some  time  before, 
and  both  Madge  and  Sara  had  forgotten 
her. 

"  Think  he's  brought  any  one  with  him  ?  " 
inquired  the  half-breed  after  a  while. 

Madge  shook  her  head. 

Sam  reflected  a  minute  and  then  asked, 


"  How  did  you  come  to  know  'bout  this  affair 
of  ours  before  I  told  you  ?  " 

"  From  Mrs.  Tenterden,  and  from  Golight- 
ley, and  from  a  letter,"  replied  Madge,  non- 
chalantly. Then,  noticing  Sam's  surprise, 
she  added  with  a  smile,  "  The  letter  was  from 
Jack  Selwyn." 

"He  writes  to  you — eh?"  hissed -the 
other,  with  a  momentary  return  of  the  sav- 
age. 

The  young  woman  smiled  again,  some- 
what defiantly. 

"  Got  him  after  you,  too,  eh  ? — by  the 
devil !  How  does  he  begin,  then  ? — '  Madge 
dearest,'  or  '  My  sweet  mistress,'  or  what  is 
it— eh?" 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Madge,  angrily ;  for  a  wom- 
an will  endure  bullying  far  more  submissive- 
ly than  coarseness.  "If  you  know  how  it 
began,  you  may  find  out  what  was  in  it !  " 

Perceiving  that  he  had  made  a  mistake, 
Sam  would  again  have  attempted  an  apology ; 
but  Madge  impatiently  stopped  him.  "  Never 
mind — never  mind.  The  letter  was  written 
to  Garth,  but  I  read  it,  without  Garth's  know- 
ing." 

"  I  see  !  "  nodded  the  other  with  a  glance 
of  crafty  significance.  "  You  ....  eh  ?" 

"  I  found  it  in  the  woods,"  said  Madge, 
hastily. 

Sam  still  nodded  significantly,  as  much 
as  to  say  that  the  finding  was  wonderfully 
opportune.  "  So  Selwyn's  the  chap's  been 
tracking  me  down !  "  he  muttered,  presently. 
"  Did  you  show  this  letter  to  Golightley  ? " 

"No — nor  to  any  one  else.  Don't  sus- 
pect me,  Sam  ;  if  I  chose  to  deceive  you,  I 
could  do  it  without  your  suspecting.  I  didn't 
wish  to  frighten  Uncle  Golightley  away,  nor 
to  let  him  know  how  much  I  knew  about 
him.  But  you  can  do  me  neither  good  nor 
harm — except  bodily  harm." 

There  was  a  sincerity  in  her  tone  which 
was  pathetic,  because,  in  her,  it  betrayed  so 
much  inward  stress;  and  Kineo  could  not 
but  feel  some  sense  of  her  forgiving  disposi- 
tion toward  him.  "  I've  been  shabby  to  you, 
my  little  beauty,"  said  he,  "  and  I'm  sorry 
for  it — by  the  devil  I  am !  Tell  you  what, 
Madge,  if  you  'nd  me  pull  together  we  can 
fool  Jack  Selwyn  'nd  all  his  gang.  Just  you 
get  round  Selwyn  'nd  find  out  how  much  he 


COUNTERMINING. 


223 


knows,  and  if  ho  suspects  I'm  here,  just 
throw  him  off  the  scent — d'ye  see?  You've 
got  brains,  'nd,  if  you  do  the  best  you  can 
for  me,  I'm  satisfied." 

"I  should  think  you  might  be,  Sam 
Kineo,"  she  answered,  quietly.  "  But  what 
shall  I  get  in  return  for  it?  How  can  you 
help  me?  Uncle  Golightley  is  too  clever 
for  you.  If  he  marries  Elinor,  don't  you  see 
he's  sure  of  the  money  whether  he's  found 
out  or  not." 

"Not  a  bad  notion — marrying  the  wom- 
an you've  robbed!"  assented  the  other. 
"  We  ought  to  stop  that  off,  somehow." 

"  When  do  you  mean  to  see  Golightley  ?  " 

"Oh,  soon  enough.  And  look  here, 
Madge  Danver — if  that  chap  Selwyn's  in 
love  with  Elinor  as  well,  he'd  bear  easy  on 
the  man  that  could  prove  his  rival  a  thief — 
eh?" 

"What  do  you  think  of  me?"  asked 
Madge,  abruptly. 

"Sweetest  piece  of  flesh  ever  I  came 
across !  what  more  d'you  want  ?  " 

She  gave  a  short,  hard  laugh.  "  Nothing, 
I  suppose.  But  I  mean,  you  seem  to  think 
I  would  stop  at  nothing.  I've  never  done 
anything  very  wicked,  yet." 

The  half-breed  ducked  his  head  in  noise- 
less cachinnation.  "  Yes — you  look  innocent 
enough,  'nd  that's  the  wickedest  part  of  you. 
I  know  you — you  love  devilry  just  for  its 
own  sake,  'nd  you  can't  keep  your  fingers 
out  of  it." 

"It  isn't  true!  "  cried  Madge,  getting  to 
her  feet  excitedly.  "I  like  good  people  and 
good  things — only — " 

Sam  had  risen  too,  and,  catching  her 
hands  in  his,  he  peered  with  a  penetrating 
grimace  into  her  eyes.  "No  you  don't — no 
you  don't — no  you  don't!"  he  repeated, 
shaking  his  head  slowly.  "  No  use,  my  little 
dear;  should  have  liked  good  things  before 
that  picnic  that  you  and  I  and  Garth  went 
to.  Too  late  now — the  devil's  got  you — bet- 
ter give  in  to  him !  " 

She  flushed,  and  tears  filled  her  eyes; 
then  she  grew  pale  and  smiled.  Immediate- 
ly Sam  threw  his  arm  around  her  waist  and 
kissed  her,  not  reverently,  upon  the  month ; 
kissed  those  lips  which  were  poisoned  now, 
if  never  before. 
15 


She  partly  freed  herself  from  him,  and 
at  the  same  moment  they  both,  by  a  common 
impulse  looked  toward  the  opening  of  the 
wigwam.  There  appeared  the  grotesque 
visage  of  Nikomis,  swarthy  and  framed  in 
darkness:  and  her  black  eyes  seemed  to 
gleam  approval  of  what  had  been  done. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

COUNTERMINING. 

THE  arrival  of  Golightley  and  Professor 
Grindle,  shortly  after  the  episode  just  de- 
scribed, brought  to  an  end  that  parallel 
movement  of  events  whose  progress  has  been 
indicated  from  the  earliest  hours  of  the 
morning.  Madge  returned  with  Elinor  to 
the  village  in  the  afternoon,  and  Selwyn 
undertook  the  care  of  his  friend  Garth  dur- 
ing the  ensuing  night. 

The  next  morning  Professor  Grindle, 
finding  Garth  still  on  the  mending  hand,  bade 
farewell  to  the  household  and  set  off  through 
the  woods  to  the  village.  It  was  a  gray,  cold 
day,  and  the  professor  resentfully  anticipated 
an  early  and  severe  winter.  "  The  young 
folks  will  enjoy  it,  no  doubt,"  muttered  he, 
as  he  gathered  his  old-fashioned  top-coat 
more  closely  about  him,  and  stepped  sturdily 
along  the  frost-hardened  pathway ;  "  but 
after  a  fellow  gets  to  be  forty,  he  should 
move  a  degree  nearer  to  the  equator  every 
year,  and  allow  the  sun  to  restore  the  caloric 
which  old  age  takes  away.  I  don't  know, 
though;  if  all  the  graybeards  lived  in  the 
south,  and  left  the  youths  and  maidens  to 
their  own  devices  up  north,  the  world  would 
go  to  rack  and  ruin  very  soon.  Ay,  and 
what  would  we  poor  duffers  do  without 
them,  to  remind  ns  of  what  we  once  were, 
or  hoped  to  be  ? — Hullo !  there  she  is." 

At  the  end  of  a  long,  leafless  vista  an 
erect  and  slender  figure,  equipped  in  fur- 
lined  jacket  and  muff,  had  come  into  view. 
As  they  neared  each  other,  the  old  gentleman 
lifted  his  hat,  exposing  his  bald  pate  to  the 
icy  breeze,  while  Elinor,  whose  face  was 
pink  with  cold  and  exercise,  smiled  and  be- 
came pinker  still. 

"  Good-morning,  young  lady,"  he  called 


226 


GARTH. 


out  in  his  strident,  kindly  tones ;  "  I  wish  I 
had  such  a  nice  muff  to  keep  my  old  fingers 
warm !  May  I  ask  your  permission  to  walk 
back  a  little  distance  and  chat  with  you? " 

"  I'd  rather  go  with  you,  Professor  Grin- 
die,  if  you  don't  mind,"  replied  she,  turning. 
"How  are  your  patients? " 

"  Garth'll  get  well ;  Cuthbert  won't,"  said 
Grindle,  sternly. 

"  I  know  Mr.  Urmson  very  little,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Elinor,  after  a  pause;  "but  I 
can't  help  feeling  that  I  love  him." 

"Ay,  ay,  Outbbert  stands  high  in  our 
Yankee  peerage,  as  an  honest,  enlightened, 
tender-hearted  man.  May  his  son  prove 
worthy  of  him! — I  think  he  will." 

"  They  are  very  unlike,"  was  all  Elinor's 
answer. 

"Ay,  that  they  are.  Well,  young  lady, 
like  or  unlike,  I  leave  them  in  your  care. 
I've  left  all  necessary  prescriptions  in  writ- 
ing, but  you  don't  need  to  be  told  what  the 
errands  of  mercy  are." 

"Thank  you,  Professor  Grindle.  I've 
never  been  useful  to  anybody  ;  I  shall  be 
glad  if  you  will  teach  me  how  to  begin." 
This  was  said  with  earnestness,  tempered 
only  by  the  reserve  which  rendered  most  of 
Elinor's  utterances  apparently  mere  society- 
talk.  But  Grindle,  in  addition  to  his  native 
penetration,  had  heard  enough  about  Miss 
Golightley  during  the  past  twenty-four  hours 
to  enable  him  to  estimate  her  more  accu- 
rately than  most  of  her  acquaintances.  There 
was  a  cordial  glow  in  his  resolute  old  eyes 
as  he  looked  upon  her. 

"You'll  give  the  sick  people  music  from 
time  to  time,"  said  he.  "  Harmony  and  mel- 
ody are  valuable  commodities  in  this  world, 
and  those  who  can  produce  them  deserve 
the  world's  thanks." 

"  I  like  to  think  that  music  may  do  more 
than  merely  amuse  people,"  remarked  Eli- 
nor, looking  up  shyly. 

"  Urmhurst  is  a  fine  field  for  a  purveyor 
of  harmony,  just  now,  my  dear  young  lady. 
You  apprehend  me — I  don't  speak  strictly 
by  the  letter.  Your  violin  is  the  symbol  of 
something  deeper  and  better." 

"  But  you  must  not  think  that  I  am  like 
my  music;  I  have  no  such  power." 

"Well,  well,  we'll   not  quarrel    about 


that,"  said  Grindle,  smiling.  "  Now,  you'll 
pardon  me  if,  in  speaking  of  our  patients,  I 
take  you  a  bit  into  the  family  confidence — 
and  after  all,  you  know,  you're  a  cousin. 
Cuthbert  is  a  man  who  cannot  live  long; 
but  peace  of  mind,  though  it  won't  cure  him, 
is  his  best  medicine:  and  I  find  that  this 
match  between  Garth  and  Maggie  Danver 
causes  him  great  anxiety — he  thinks  they 
don't  really  care  for  each  other." 

"  Does  Mr.  Urmson  wish  me  to  hear  this, 
sir?" 

"  Telling  you  of  it  is  my  own  idea  entire- 
ly. 'Tis  the  old  story,  you  perceive,  of  a 
boy  and  girl  falling  in  love,  and  growing  up 
to  repent  it,  and  yet,  for  one  cause  or  an- 
other, failing  to  break  it  off.  Now,  inter- 
ference in  these  affairs,  unless  delicately 
managed,  is  quite  as  apt  to  tighten  the  knot 
as  to  loosen  it.  An  honorable  man,  so  long 
as  he  believes  his  mistress  true  to  him, 
would  chop  his  right  hand  off  sooner  than 
deny  her.  But  if  there  were  evidence  that 
she  wasn't  true — the  case  would  be  altered. 
Are  you  intimate  with  Madge  Danver,  Miss 
Elinor  ? " 

The  intonation  given  to  these  words  ex- 
plained their  significance.  Elinor  flushed 
suddenly.  "  1  would  rather  not  have  suspi- 
cions," 'said  she. 

Grindle  gave  a  grimly  humorous  smile. 
"Wrong  should  not  be  suffered,  my  dear 
young  lady,"  said  he,  "through  disincli- 
nation on  the  part  of  honest  people  to  take 
counsel  against  it." 

"  I  think  we  are  more  apt  to  wish  our 
suspicions  true  than  to  find  them  so,"  re- 
turned Elinor,  shrinkingly. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  assented  Grindle,  with  his 
uncompromising  nod.  "  But  should  the  ca- 
reer of  a  young  fellow  who  might  do  good 
in  the  world  be  spoiled  by  the  selfishness  of 
a  pretty  girl,  who,  however  she  may  wish 
her  own  advantage,  would  most  likely  ruin 
him  without  securing  it  ?  " 

Elinor  took  one  hand  from  her  muff  and 
let  both  hands  fall  at  her  sides ;  her  figure 
drooped,  and  the  light  faded  from  her  eyes. 
Grindle,  looking  at  her,  had  a  new  impres- 
sion of  her  personality.  Her  face  had  a 
charm  easily  missed  by  an  unsympathetic 
observer,  but  which,  once  recognized,  was 


COUNTERMINING. 


227 


fascinating  forever  after.  It  was  a  face  in 
which  nobleness  and  severity  were  singular- 
ly blended  with  tender  human  irregularity : 
it  contained  a  discord  analogous  to  that  by 
which  great  composers  elicit  their  most 
poignant  harmonies.  She  had  spent  her  life 
without  finding  a  fit  opportunity  for  parting 
asunder  the  veil  which  hid  her  inward  ardor 
and  impetuosity.  Professor  Grindle  half 
doubted  whether  he  would  be  justified  in 
urging  these  latent  forces  into  action.  To 
cut  a  leash  is  a  less  revocable  proceeding 
than  to  apply  a  spur. 

"  What  right  have  I  to  meddle  between 
them  ? "  she  demanded  at  last. 

"The  universal. human  right  to  support 
a  good  cause,"  answered  the  professor,  with 
great  gentleness.  "  Besides,  there's  no  one 
to  take  your  place.  Cuthbert  has  begun  to 
stagger  under  his  responsibility :  your  young 
shoulders  may  relieve  him,  if  you  will.  You 
are  a  heroine,  Miss  Elinor,  if  you'll  let  your- 
self be  one." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  could  not  be  impartial," 
said  she. 

"  Glad  to  hear  it !  "  cried  Grindle,  hearti- 
ly. "Be  heart  and  soul  on  the  right  side, 
and  don't  mind  about  giving  quarter  till  all's 
over.  And  now  I've  said  all  I  need  say,  Miss 
Elinor,  so  I'll  only  add  good-by."  He 
stopped  and  held  out  his  hand,  Elinor  put- 
ting her  own  frankly  within  it. 

"I'm  glad  we  met,  Professor  Grindle," 
said  she,  with  a  smile  and  a  look  that  made 
the  hackneyed  phrase  valuable. 

"God  bless  her!"  muttered  Grindle, 
more  than  once,  as  he  tramped  toward  the 
village.  "  I  might  have  had  a  daughter  like 
her !  " 

When  Elinor  came  in  view  of  Urmhurst 
she  saw  a  gentleman  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth  approaching  from  the  direction  of 
the  farm-yard.  He  was  sauntering  medita- 
tively along,  holding  his  cane  behind  his 
back  with  both  hands,  except  when,  from 
time  to  time,  he  took  the  cigar  from  beneath 
his  mustache  and  filliped  away  the  white 
ash.  He  did  not  seem  aware  of  Elinor's  ap- 
proach, and  she  had  leisure  to  remark  the 
slender,  vigorous  grace  of  his  figure,  the 
manly,  keen-eyed  comeliness  of  his  face,  and 
even  the  excellent  fit  and  good  taste  of  his 


apparel.  The  shadows  of  life  seemed  to 
abate  somewhat  of  their  gloom  in  view  of 
this  handsome,  energetic,  and  independent 
young  fellow,  who  could  dress  so  well  and 
puff  his  cigar 'so  composedly  through  them 
all. 

As  he  caught  sight  of  her  he  took  off  his 
fur  cap  and  made  a  bow — gracefully  enough 
this  time — and  exclaimed  cheerfully :  "  Good- 
morning,  Miss  Golightley !  How's  the  old 
lady?" 

Elinor  smiled  in  spite  of  herself  at  this 
rather  irreverent  paraphrase  for  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden ;  but  Jack  Selwyn  was  not  like  other 
people,  so  she  only  replied  that  the  lady  in 
question  was  doing  rather  better. 

"  That's  all  right,"  observed  Jack. 
"  Garth  had  a  tip-top  night,  too,  as  I  know 
to  my  cost ;  he'll  be  out  skating  by  Christ- 
mas. Mr.  Urmson's  asleep  in  celebration  of 
his  son's  convalescence.  Golightley's  got 
the  dyspepsia  from  too  many  buckwheats, 
and  even  I  have  heen  obliged  to  smoke  an 
extra  cigar  and  take  a  run  over  the  farm- 
yard. Ever  been  in  the  barn,  Miss  Golight- 
ley ? " 

"I  never  was  in  any  barn,  I  don't 
think." 

"  Deuce !  wish  I  might  have  the  luck  to 
introduce  you  to  many  a  better  enjoyment. 
Come  on,  and  know  what  you've  never 
known  till  now !  " 

She  went  beside  him,  smiling  occasionally 
as  he  chatted  about  the  weather  and  the 
country,  until  he  lifted  the  broad,  wooden 
latch,  and  ushered  her  into  the  fragrant, 
brown-shadowed  interior.  He  then  pulled 
out  the  old  sleigh  to  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
and  arranged  a  comfortable  seat  in  it  with 
the  buffalo-robe. 

"  This  is  very  jolly,"  said  Elinor ;  "  how 
good  the  hay  smells;  and  nothing  can  be 
sweeter  than  cows'  breath !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  can !  "  Jack  longed  to  re- 
tort ;  but  he  repressed  himself,  and  said  in- 
stead :  "  So  you  like  New  England  savagery? 
Do  you  mean  to  live  here?  " 

"I  believe  my  mother  and — Mr.  Go- 
lightley Urmson  think  of  living  in  New 
York." 

"  To  tell  the  truth  and  shame  the  devil,  I 
don't  adore  Golightley  myself,  and  am  not 


223 


GAETH. 


going  to  congratulate  you  on  his  having 
the  right  to  dispose  of  you.  Are  you 
angry  ?  " 

"  It's  the  devil  who  ought  to  he  offend- 
ed, I  should  think,"  said  Elinor,  lifting  her 
brows  a  trifle. 

"  I  hope  he  may  he,  hefore  I'm  done 
with  him !  "  muttered  Jack,  setting  his  teeth. 
"Well— but  look  here;  about  that  money- 
business  of  yours." 

"Mrs.  Tenterden's?  She  will  be  very 
much  obliged  to  you." 

"Oh,  damn  her  obligations — no,  no!  I 
mean  it's  very  kind  of  her  to  let  me  be  of 
some  use.  She'll  recover  probably  two- 
thirds  of  what  was  stolen — say  eighty  thou- 
sand pounds." 

Elinor  sat  still  and  gradually  became 
very  pale ;  the  announcement  had  taken  her 
by  surprise,  and  seemed  to  produce  anything 
but  a  pleasant  effect  upon  her.  "It's  too 
late  now,"  she  said,  at  length,  rather  bitter- 
ly. "All  the  good  things  in  life  wait  until 
you  don't  need  them  before  they  come. 
What  should  a  girl  on  the  eve  of  a  wealthy 
marriage  want  with  eighty  thousand  pounds? 
But  it  was  very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Selwyn." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right !  "  returned  Jack, 
very  cheerfully.  "  Yes,  Golightley  has  just 
about  the  same  sum  we  hope  to  recover 
for  you — eighty  thousand.  Funny,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Elinor,  abstractedly ; 
but  all  at  once  she  turned  and  said,  "  What 
do  you  mean?" 

"  Nothing ;  only  it's  funny,  you  know." 

"Where  is  the  man  who  stole  the 
money  ? " 

"Under  surveillance.  But  it's  the  ac- 
complice we're  after — want  to  get  State's 
evidence  out  of  him.  We  believe  he's  hid- 
ing somewhere  hereabouts." 

"State's  evidence?  Does  that  mean  be- 
traying the  other?" 

"It's  this  way.  The  accomplice  has  in 
his  possession  letters  or  proofs  of  some  kind, 
which  are  necessary  to  the  conviction  of — a 
— the  chief  scoundrel.  And  the  accomplice 
has  spent  all  his  share  of  the  booty.  There- 
fore, his  evidence  is  worth  more  to  us  than 
his  person,  and  if  he'll  sell  it  in  considera- 
tion of  escaping  prosecution,  we'll  agree  to 
the  bargain." 


"  That  is,  you  punish  one  thief  for  keep- 
ing what  he  has  stolen,  and  pardon  the  other 
for  having  dissipated  his  part? " 

"Oh,  we'll  be  down  on  both  of  them 
with  all  the  pleasure  in  the  world,  if  it  can 
be  managed,"  said  Jack,  smiling. 

"Does  the  principal  know  that  he  is  un- 
der surveillance  ? " 

"  Eather  imagine  not,  Miss  Golightley." 

"  He  lives  openly — isn't  hiding,  as  the  ac- 
complice is? " 

Jack  nodded,  not  certain  whither  this 
swift  questioning  tended. 

"He  lives  openly — as  you  and  I  and  Mr. 
Urmson  do — here  in  our  neighborhood  ?  " 

"Hold  on!  what  put  his  being  'in  our 
neighborhood '  in  your  head  ?  " 

"You  said  the  accomplice  was  without 
money,  and  hiding  hereabouts.  He  could 
only  come  here  to  get  money  from  the 
principal,  and  so  the  principal  must  be  here 
as  well." 

"  You  are  deuced  clever,"  said  Jack, 
smiling  upon  her  admiringly.  "  I  must  tell 
yon  though  that  it's  very  evident  you  know 
nothing  at  all  about  this  affair ;  and,  since  I 
have  charge  of  it,  and  it  isn't  finished  yet,  I 
sha'n't  let  you  know  anything." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  be  told  anything,"  re- 
plied Eliiior,  with  one  of  her  point-blank 
looks.  "But  I  don't  like  your  consenting 
to  such  a  piece  of  meanness." 

"Hullo!  why,  what?" 

"Encouraging  one  of  these  men  to  be- 
tray the  other." 

"  But,  look  here — if  we  can't  touch  the 
chief  scamp  in  any  other  way — " 

"  Then  don't  touch  him  at  all !  "  exclaimed 
Elinor,  with  a  glance  and  a  tone  that  made 
Jack's  eyes  sparkle ;  and,  rising  as  she  spoke, 
she  bade  him  good-morning  and  walked  out 
of  the  barn,  and  thus  ended  the  conversation. 

"  She  can't  really  care  for  the  black- 
guard, you  know,"  said  Jack  to  himself 
afterward,  reviewing  her  words  and  be- 
havior. "But  does  she  suspect  Golightley 
of  being  the  blackguard  ?  If  not,  why  take 
blackguard's  part?  Hum — why  take  it  any 
way?  As  to  scruples  against  State's  evi- 
dence—inadmissible, of  course;  though  it 
does  seem  mean,  as  she  says.  What  a  di- 
vine, glorious  creature  she  is,  now  !  Com- 


HOUSEWORK. 


229 


pare  her  with  Madge.  By-the-way,  I  must 
make  friends  with  Madge  again,  and  see 
whether  she  can't  tell  us  anything  about 
that  accomplice.  I  wish  this  damned  busi- 
ness was  settled,  so  I  might  attend  to  my 
own !  She  doesn't  care  for  me  yet,  but  she 
may  at  last!  God  bless  her,  whether  she 
does  or  not!  " 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

HOUSEWORK. 

THE  current  of  affairs  at  Urmhurst  now 
flowed  on  with  that  smoothness  vulgarly 
supposed  to  be  of  ill  omen.  Garth  rapidly 
grew  better,  but  there  was  a  change  ap- 
parent in  him  such  as  may  often  be  noticed 
in  new  convalescents,  but  which  generally 
fades  away  with  the  full  return  of  health. 
To  lie  in  the  same  bed  with  death  purifies  a 
man,  at  least  for  a  time.  With  Garth,  an 
ugly  knot  seemed  to  have  been  loosened  at 
the  centre  of  his  spiritual  life,  setting  free 
his  nobler  energies. 

It  was  a  rule  of  the  sick-chamber  that  no 
painful  topic  should  be  discussed  in  it ;  and 
thus  Garth's  bedside  became  a  sort  of  moral 
oasis  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  of  conflict- 
ing interests  and  passions.  Here  did  the 
world  put  on  its  most  smiling  and  light- 
hearted  aspect ;  and  if  anybody  during  the 
day  thought  of  anything  agreeable  to  be  said 
or  done,  such  word  or  deed  was  reserved  for 
the  court  of  his  majesty  King  Convalescent. 
An  unimpassioned  observer  (were  such  a 
monster  possible)  would  have  admired  the 
change  wrought  in  the  bearing,  and  seem- 
ingly in  the  very  nature,  of  some  half-dozen 
rational  human  beings,  when  they  stepped 
across  the  threshold  of  this  enchanted  cham- 
ber. It  was  analogous  to  the  difference  of 
colors  in  light  and  shadow.  Garth's  august 
infirmity  forbade  the  impertinence  of  gloom. 

"  Nothing  like  the  typhoid  for  putting 
a  moody,  sulky,  crack-brained  brute  of  a 
genius  in  a  good-humor,"  remarked  Jack 
Sehvyn  to  his  friend  one  day.  "  But  hurry 
up  and  get  well,  man,  and  come  out  skating, 
that  the  world  may  benefit  by  your  improve- 
ment." 

"  When  I  go  skating,  Jack,  there'll  be  an 


end  of  this  peace  and  good-will  we're  all 
making  so  much  of.  I've  not  been  ill  for 
nothing — and  I  won't  get  well  for  nothing, 
please  God !  " 

"Oh,  damn  your  holiness!  It's  because 
you  couldn't  help  it,  in  both  cases." 

Garth  laughed. 

"  WTell,  what  do  you  think  you've  been 
ill  for?" 

"I  did  some  strange  thinking.  I  im- 
agined I  was  going  through  a  great  spiritual 
experience.  I  was  in  a  fight  between  devils 
and  angels — and,  what  seemed  odd,  they  had 
the  voices  of  members  of  the  family  and 
acquaintances !  At  last,  when  I  was  at  the 
very  bottom  of  the  pit,  I  was  lifted  out  by  a 
divine  angel  of  harmony." 

"The  first  sane  word  you've  said  yet!  " 
cried  Jack.  "Elinor  Golightley  is  a  divine 
angel  of  harmony.  The  rest  is  bosh." 

"No  it  isn't,"  returned  Garth.  "When 
a  fellow  has  been  knocking  about  in  chaos 
for  what  seems  thousands  of  lifetimes,  he 
doesn't  come  out  feeling  quite  so  selfish  and 
impudent  as  when  he  went  in." 

"I  think  I'll  try  your  recipe,  if  you 
haven't  patented  it.  Get  my  fever,  go  to 
bed,  dream  and  gibber  my  way  through 
chaos  for  three  weeks,  and  then  jump  up 
and  prate  about  my  spiritual  vicissitudes — 
and  pose  as  a  saint  ever  afterward!  " 

"  Confound  you,  Jack  Selwyn,  how  dare 
you  exasperate  me  when  I'm  ill?  I'll  tell 
Elinor  Golightley !  " 

"Don't I  "  cried  Jack;  " I'd  rather  you'd 
punch  my  head."  He  tossed  the  end  of  his 
cigar  behind  the  fire,  and  rested  his  elbows 
on  his  knees.  "This  has  been  a  jolly  fort- 
night, Garth,  old  fello\v.  We'll  not  see  such 
another  soon." 

"Where  do  you  suppose  we'll  be  ten 
years  from  now?  " 

"  Ten  years!  Say  ten  weeks.  I'm  none 
of  your  Parson  Graemes,  or  Methuselahs 
even !  "  said  Jack,  getting  impatiently  to  his 
feet.  "  Hark  !  there  comes  Miss  Golightley 
with  your  dinner.  Good-by ;  I'm  going  to 
the  lake  to  see  if  the  ice  bears." 

Elinor,  having  arranged  Garth's  dinner 
for  him,  took  up  her  favorite  position  by  the 
window,  whence  she  could  gaze  out  upon 
the  frosty  sky,  and  the  bleak  valley  beneath 


230 


GAETH. 


it.  This  young  lady  had  during  the  last 
two  weeks  become  the  governing  spirit  at 
Urmhurst.  For  the  first  time  since  gentle 
Martha  Urmson's  death,  Urmhurst  had  found 
a  mistress.  Elinor  was  by  no  means  averse 
from  taking  a  human  interest  in  lowly 
affairs  ;  her  scope  was  broader  than  that  of 
the  mere  lady  of  culture  and  refinement. 
And  the  duties  she  performed  reacted  upon 
herself:  she  was  less  frigid  and  haughty, 
and  her  eyes  were  brighter  and  her  voice 
cheerier,  than  before  her  houskeeping  began. 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,"  observed  Garth, 
"  my  mother  handed  over  the  housework  to 
me  for  nearly  a  year.  I  did  everything, 
from  sawing  wood  to  making  pudding.  Do 
you  do  as  much  as  that  ?  " 

"Almost.  You  should  have  seen  my 
hands  a  week  ago :  there  was  a  great  blister 
on  this  finger,  and  a  sore  place  inside  the 
thumb,  and  a  scald  on  the  wrist.  But  after 
all,  you  know,  I  have  the  Danvers'  char- 
woman to  help  me.  She  is  very  amusing. 
She  said  yesterday  she  didn't  like  scrubbing 
and  rubbing  about  an  old  place  like  this ;  it 
was  like  cleaning  and  laying  out  a  corpse 
ready  for  burial! " 

"Is  poor  old  Urmhurst  so  near  its 
death  ? "  muttered  Garth. 

"I  told  you  to  make  you  laugh,"  said 
Elinor,  reprovingly.  "  Another  time,  when 
we  were  brushing  the  cobwebs  from  the 
great  beams  in  the  ceilings,  she  said  it  was 
cruel  to  strip  the  poor  things  of  their  cover- 
ings, just  when  winter  was  coming  on." 

"  What  is  Nikomis  doing  all  this  time?  " 

"  She  is  such  a  strange  old  creature — she 
grows  stranger  every  day.  Lately  she  has 
taken  to  wearing  beads  and  old  feathers, 
and  such  things ;  and  once  she  appeared 
with  her  face  painted  in  blue  and  yellow 
stripes.  She  doesn't  work  herself,  but 
sometimes  she  watches  the  charwoman  and 
me  with  a  kind  of  smile — if  you  can  imagine 
her  smiling! — as  if  the  house  were  hers, 
and  we  her  servants.  And  once,  when  we 
had  gone  to  put  the  cellar  in  order —  If 
you've  done  your  dinner,  I'll  take  the  tray 
out." 

"  No — I  must  hear  the  rest  first." 

"Well,"  resumed  Elinor,  smiling,  and 
growing  pink,  "  the  amount  of  it  is  that  we 


were  given  to  understand  that  the  cellar  was 
her  exclusive  property,  and  no  one  was  to 
trespass  in  it.  For,  when  we  got  to  the 
bottom  of  the  stairs,  she  suddenly  rose  up 
before  us,  throwing  up  her  arms  and  mo- 
tioning us  back.  She  looked  like  the  spec- 
tre of  the  old  sachem  that  Mr.  Urmson  says 
is  buried  there." 

"  Yes,  there's  no  telling  what  awful  se- 
crets may  be  hidden  in  that  cellar.  Have 
you  ever  been  in  her  wigwam,  up  in  the 
garret  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed.  But  sometimes  I  hear  a 
rumbling  sound,  as  if  she  were  talking  to 
herself  there:  and  the  two  tones  are  quite 
different ;  it  reminded  me  of  the  chanting  of 
the  priests  in  the  Koman  Catholic  churches." 
Here  Elinor  took  up  the  tray,  and,  remark- 
ing that  she  must  go  down  and  make  the 
coffee,  she  departed  in  spite  of  Garth's  ex- 
postulations. 

It  was  doubtless  fortunate  for  Elinor 
that  this  pressure  of  alien  duties  and  in- 
terests kept  her  from  brooding  too  much 
over  her  own  destiny.  Her  housework  gave 
her  wholesome  bodily  exercise  and  fatigue, 
while  her  mind  was  busied  with  the  difficult 
and  delicate  enterprise  of  searching  for  the 
clew  to  the  problem  intrusted  to  her  by  Pro- 
fessor Grindle.  A  main  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  success  was  the  necessity  of  working  in 
silence  and  unaided.  A  feminine  intuition 
restrained  her  from  seeking  the  help  of  Jack 
Selwyn,  and  there  were  equally  good  reasons 
against  taking  counsel  with  Cuthbert.  For, 
clear-brained  and  honest  though  she  was, 
Elinor  lacked  the  authority  which  wifehood 
always  confers  in  emergencies  of  this  kind  ; 
and,  in  the  present  instance,  her  embarrass- 
ment was  perhaps  increased  by  the  fact  that 
the  person  whose  marriage  prospects  were 
in  jeopardy  happened  to  be  Garth. 

Meanwhile,  time  dragged  along  very  irk- 
somely with  Sam  Kineo.  The  fact  that  he 
was  comparatively  safe  so  long  as  he  staid 
in  the  wigwam,  only  made  abiding  there 
more  dismal  to  him :  there  was  not  even 
the  excitement  of  uncertainty  and  suspense. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Madge,"  he  grumbled 
out  one  day,  as  she  stood  at  the  door  of  the 
wigwam,  looking  down  upon  him,  "I'm 
going  to  see  Golightley  now  ;  get  this  thing 


A  NEW  NEPHEW. 


231 


over,  one  way  or  'nother.     You  tell  him  I 
must  see  him  to-night." 

"  You'd  better  leave  me  to  manage  him  ; 
he'll  get  the  better  of  you,  somehow.  And 
I  sometimes  think,  from  the  way  he  goes 
on,  that  he  has  done  something  already  to 
make  himself  safe." 

"  I've  got  something  to  make  him  safe !  ' 
growled  Sam,  tapping  the  breast  of  his 
coat. 

"  If  you  mean  that  old  bowie-knife  of 
yours — " 

"  Knife  ? — it's  his  handwriting  I'm  talk- 
ing about.  No,  no !  no  use  knifing  Golight- 
ley  yet  awhile.  I'd  like  to  knife  that  chap 
Selwyn." 

"  He's  the  only  man  I  ever  met  that  I 
couldn't  make  in  love  with  me,"  remarked 
Madge,  thoughtfully.  "But  that's  because 
he's  so  infatuated  with  Elinor  Golightley. 
I  can't  make  out,  though,  why  she  doesn't 
marry  him  instead  of  Golightley." 

"  Oh,  no  telling  'bout  women !  "  muttered 
Sam,  contemptuously.  "  Most  likely  she's 
in  love  with  Garth,  and  jealous  of  yon." 

"  In  love  with  Garth  1 "  repeated  Madge, 
sharply ;  then  she  smiled  incredulously. 
"  Poor  Garth !  nobody  was  ever  in  love 
with  him  but  I :  and  he  never  loved  any  one 
but  me.  I've  never  had  the  fun  of  being 
jealous." 

"  You  just  wait,"  returned  Sam,  chuck- 
ling maliciously.  "Going?  Fill  ray  pipe 
for  me  first,  there's  a  little  dear ;  and  don't 
forget  about  Golightley." 

On  leaving  the  wigwam  and  its  loutish 
occupant,  Madge  descended  wearily  to  the 
bedroom  floor.  It  was  quite  dark ;  from 
Garth's  chamber  came  sounds  of  light- 
hearted  talk  and  laughter.  Suddenly  the 
door  opened,  and  Elinor  came  forth,  her 
whole  bearing  eloquent  of  alert  and  cheer- 
ful composure.  Madge  drew  noiselessly 
aside  and  saw  her,  herself  unseen,  pass 
down  the  broad  staircase.  A  sphere  of 
purity  and  wholesomeness  seemed  to  invest 
her  as  she  moved.  Madge  gave  a  short 
sigh,  and  passed  her  hand  across  her  fore- 
head. After  a  few  moments'  hesitation  she 
advanced  toward  the  door  which  Elinor 
had  just  closed,  and  laid  her  finger  on  the 
latch.  But  her  purpose,  whatever  it  may 


have  been,  faltered:  she  drew  back,  and 
went  wearily  on  down-stairs.  In  truth,  it 
was  a  long  way  from  the  wigwam  to  Garth's 
chamber. 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

A   NEW  NEPHEW. 

AFTER  supper  that  night,  the  audience 
being  assembled  as  usual  in  the  convales- 
cent's room,  Elinor  took  up  her  violin  and 
made  ready  to  play.  Whereupon  Uncle  Go- 
lightley, who  had  been  making  himself  high- 
ly entertaining  for  the  past  half -hour,  got  up 
and  caressed  his  cheeks  and  settled  his  eye- 
glasses. 

"  Now  I'm  going  to  be  impolite,"  said  he, 
stepping  to  Elinor's  side  and  taking  her  hand 
lightly  in  his.  "  Instead  of  listening  to  your 
music  I'm  going  to  retire  to  my  room  and 
see  whether  I  can't  get  rid  of  a  confounded 
headache  that's  been  dogging  me  all  day. 
By-by!  pray  that  I  may  reappear  sound 
and  whole  at  breakfast."  He  raised  her  fin- 
ger-tips gallantly  to  his  lips,  waved  his  hand 
with  a  smile  to  Garth  and  Cuthbert,  and  de- 
parted. 

Among  many  odd  specifics  for  the  cure 
of  headaches,  Golightley's  was  certainly  one 
of  the  oddest.  Having  shut  himself  into  his 
room,  he  slipped  a  pair  of  India-rubber  over- 
shoes over  his  boots,  washed  his  hands  care- 
fully, brushed  his  hair  and  beard,  and  ended 
by  putting  on  a  jaunty  traveling-cap  and  a 
pair  of  lemon-colored  kid  gloves.  After 
surveying  himself  in  the  glass,  he  took  from 
a  corner  of  the  room  a  handsome  gold-head- 
ed walking-stick.  Pressing  a  spring  in  the 
handle,  he  drew  forth  out  of  its  hiding-place 
a  long,  blue,  needle-pointed  stiletto.  He  ex- 
amined the  blade  closely,  tried  the  point  upon 
his  thumb,  resheathed  it  slowly,  and  re- 
mained for  several  moments  with  the  cane 
balanced  across  his  hand  and  his  eyes  fixed 
doubtfully  upon  it.  At  length  he  seemed  to 
alter  his  mind  as  to  the  expediency  of  taking 
the  weapon  with  him,  and,  replacing  it  in  its 
corner,  he  stepped  out  of  the  room  and  noise- 
lessly ascended  the  garret- stairs. 

The  person  who  admitted  him  to  Niko- 
mis's  apartment  closed  the  door  after  him 


232 


GARTH. 


and  fastened  it.  The  room  was  lighted  only 
by  the  small  oil-lamp  which  was  burning  in- 
side the  wigwam.  Golightley,  having  re- 
moved his  eye-glasses,  was  able  to  discern  a 
tall,  athletic  figure  standing  close  beside  him. 

"Mr.  Flint,  I  presume?"  said -he.  "Is 
your  respected  female  relative  present  ? " 

"  Just  you  'nd  me  alone  together,  and  the 
door  locked !  "  was  the  somewhat  menacing 
reply.  Apparently  the  host  meant  to  intimi- 
date his  visitor  before  dealing  with  him. 

"  I've  no  doubt  you're  right  in  thinking 
we're  alone,  Sam,"  rejoined  the  latter,  easily, 
replacing  his  eye-glasses.  "  Still,  you  know, 
Jtumanum  est  errare.  I'll  trouble  you  to  bring 
that  lamp  out  of  the  tent,  and  let  me  have  a 
look  for  myself.  Elderly  men,  you  know, 
get  fussy  about  small  matters. — The  lamp,  if 
you  please ! "  he  repeated  in  a  louder  but 
still  affable  tone.  "Or  shall  I  call  down- 
stairs for  one? " 

"  Oh,  take  a  look  'f  you  like,"  said  Sam, 
with  a  sneer.  He  brought  out  the  lamp,  and 
Golightley,  taking  it  from  his  hand,  stepped 
back  and  surveyed  him  attentively  from  head 
to  foot,  smiling  blandly  the  while. 

"  The  face  is  the  face  of  Samuel,"  he  re- 
marked at  length  ;  "  but  the  toggery  is  the 
toggery  of — where  did  you  find  those  gar- 
ments, my  young  friend  ?  singular  eccentrici- 
ty in  a  fellow  with  fifty  thousand  pounds  in 
his  pocket !  " 

Mr.  Flint  gavo  a  snarl,  and  stepped  quite 
close  up  to  his  interlocutor,  as  if  to  empha- 
size his  own  superiority  in  height  and  brawn. 
"I  don't  want  that  sort  of  talk,"  said  he. 
"My  money's  gone,  'nd  you've  got  to  make 
it  up  to  me." 

"See  what  comes  of  wearing  shabby 
clothes!  Your  pocket,  I  suppose,  had  a  hole 
in  it?"  As  Golightley  made  this  laughing 
reply,  he  held  the  lamp  close  to  Sam's  face, 
which  wore  at  this  moment  a  most  unamiable 
expression.  "  Take  it,"  he  added,  "it's  soil- 
ing my  gloves;  and  I'll  excuse  you  from 
hunting  after  eavesdroppers  this  time.  Will 
you  lead  the  way  into  your  boudoir  ?  "  They 
entered,  and  the  visitor  threw  himself  down 
on  the  mattress  and  looked  about  him.  "  Ah ! 
so  this  is  the  abode  of  the  noble  savage!  " 
said  he,  as  he  drew  off  his  gloves.  "And — 
one,  two,  three,  four — by  George !  do  you 


mean  to  say  the  old  lady  lifted  all  that  hair 
herself  ? " 

"If  't  hadn't  been  for  Kikomis,"  an- 
swered Sam,  who  had  squatted  down  just  in- 
side the  wigwam-door,  "  my  mother's  scalp 
would  ha'  been  there  too." 

"Eeally?  And  may  I  ask  who  your 
mother  was  ?  " 

"  You  know,  but  I  don't  mind  telling  you. 
She  was  your  father's  daughter." 

"That's  interesting,"  murmured  Golight- 
ley, producing  a  cigarette.  "  And  what  may 
have  been  my  sister's  married  name?  " 

"I've  got  the  papers.  All  safe,  'bout 
that." 

"  It's  to  be  hoped  they're  drawn  up  in 
proper  form,"  rejoined  the  other,  as  he  struck 
a  match.  "  If  it's  your  ambition  to  share 
with  Garth  the  honor  of  being  my  nephew, 
you  must  be  careful  not  to  tell  lies,  you  know. 
However,  taking  the  papers  for  granted, 
what  next  ?  Have  you  any  plans  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  b'longs  to  me !  "  said 
Sam,  nodding  his  head. 

"Eve's  legacy,  eh?  Well,  now,  Samuel, 
I'll  speak  to  you  for  argument's  sake,  as  if 
you  were  the  nephew  you  profess  to  be,  as 
well  as  the  thieving  vagabond  that  you  are. 
— There,  there — don't  get  excited !  Try  one 
of  my  cigarettes.  Now  keep  your  eye  on 
me!" 

Here  the  speaker  sat  erect,  and  spreading 
out  the  long  fingers  of  his  left  hand,  accented 
his  discourse  upon  them  with  the  forefinger 
of  his  right. 

"Assuming,  then,  the  lawful  heir  to  have 
arrived  armed  with  the  proper  credentials, 
we  have  first  to  consider  certain  irregulari- 
ties of  his,  evidence  of  which  is  in  the  hands 
of  the  police,  and  which  constitute  him  a 
felon.  This  fact,  we  may  suppose,  would 
make  him  feel  a  certain  delicacy  about  pro- 
claiming himself,  as  it  were,  from  the  house- 
tops; he  would  be  more  likely,  perhaps,  to 
hide  himself  in  the  top  of  the  house — ha,  ha ! 
Well,  but  let  us  suppose  that  this  legacy 
was  not  his  only  resource ;  that  he  had  an- 
other, by  which  he  might  benefit  without 
being  obliged  to  declare  his  identity.  Let 
us  suppose,  in  short,  that  the  uncle  of  this 
individual  possessed  a  fortune  of  a  good 
many  thousand  pounds." 


A   NEW  NEPHEW. 


233 


"What's  the  use  of  all  this  powwow?" 
interrupted  Sam,  surlily.  "Twenty  thou- 
sand pounds  is  ray  figure,  'nd  low  enough, 
too.  If  you  don't  pay  up,  I'll  turn  State's 
evidence — that's  all  about  it !  " 

"  The  value  of  State's  evidence,  my  dear 
Samuel,"  rejoined  Golightley,  still  unruffled, 
"  depends  upon  its  being  obtainable  only 
from  one  source.  Now,  in  the  present  case, 
without  questioning  your  possession  of  suffi- 
cient evidence  to  convict  me,  I  must  inform 
you  that,  if  you  decide  upon  giving  that  evi- 
dence, it  will  be  at  once  forestalled,  and  thus 
rendered  valueless.  In  other  words,  rather 
than  put  you  to  the  pain  of  swearing  your 
uncle  into  jail,  I  would  swear  myself  in !  See 
the  point?" 

Golightley  was  evidently  enjoying  his 
command  of  the  situation,  and  the  humor- 
ous sententiousness  of  his  statement  of  it ; 
while  Sam  could  not  but  feel  that  he  had 
been  to  some  extent  outwitted.  He  re- 
flected, however,  that  although  Golightley 
might,  by  surrendering  his  booty,  and  giv- 
ing himself  up  to  justice,  nullify  Sam's  own 
attack,  he  must  still  be  willing  to  pay  liber- 
ally for  the  assurance  of  Sam's  silence. 
What  other  propositions  he  might  have  in 
reserve,  the  half-breed  could  not  divine ;  so 
he  waited  sullenly  for  developments ;  and 
his  patience  was  rewarded. 

"  It  amounts  to  about  this,"  said  the  el- 
der man.  "  You  have,  or  are  supposed  to 
have,  two  things  which  I  am  willing  to  buy 
of  you.  The  first  thing  is  the  bundle  of  my 
letters  and  memoranda  relating  to  our  little 
transaction  abroad.  The  second  thing  is  the 
certificate  of  your  mother's  marriage,  and 
your  own  birth.  I'm  disposed  to  be  gener- 
ous. How  much  ? " 

Sam  was  neither  a  saint  nor  a  person  or- 
dinarily sensitive  about  his  honor ;  yet  the 
idea  of  selling  his  birthright  struck  him  un- 
pleasantly. He  had,  all  his  life,  had  occa- 
sion to  lament  the  disadvantages  of  obscure 
birth ;  and  having  only  within  the  last  few 
weeks  come  to  a  knowledge  of  his  true  par- 
entage, he  was  not  disposed  lightly  to  sur- 
render the  proofs  of  it.  True,  he  could 
make  no  practical  use  of  it  at  present ;  but 
every  human  being  has  something  which,  to 
him,  is  above  being  bartered  for  on  any 


terms :  and  in  Sam's  case  this  priceless  treas* 
ure  turned  out  (somewhat  to  his  own  sur- 
prise and  annoyance,  perhaps)  to  be  his 
birthright.  He  was  perplexed,  and  a  little 
ashamed,  but  he  could  not  help  it. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  hard  on  an  old  pal," 
he  said,  in  his  rapid,  undertoned  way.  "  Give 
me  a  check  for  ten  thousand  pounds,  'nd 
you  may  have  your  letters." 

"Ten  thousand  for  the  letters? — modest, 
upon  my  word!  But  I  suppose  you  throw 
the  certificates  in? " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !  I  mean  to  keep 
those." 

"Keep  them!  You're  crazy;  what  can 
you  do  with  them?  " 

"  Well,  I'll  just  keep  'em." 

"  Now,  Samuel,  no  one  knows  your  mer- 
its better  than  I  do ;  but  I've  only  a  moder- 
ate capacity,  and  I  can't  swallow  more  than 
one  nephew.  Those  certificates  can  never 
be  worth  a  penny  to  you,  and  yet  I'll  pay 
you  well  for  them.  It's  a  feeling  I  have — 
you,  very  naturally,  can't  understand  it — 
that  the  line  must  be  drawn  somewhere; 
and  I  draw  it  at  your  nephewship.  Come, 
what  will  you  take  ?  " 

"You're  my  uncle,"  said  the  half-breed, 
sullenly,  "  and  you've  got  to  say  so.  I'd  go 
to  the  gallows  sooner  than  give  it  up. 
You'll  not  get  those  certificates,  Uncle  Go- 
lightley." 

Luckily  for  Sam,  his  unwilling  relative 
did  not  know  that  not  he  but  Nikomis  was 
the  actual  possessor  of  the  certificates  in 
question.  As  it  was,  the  position  of  the  men 
toward  each  other  was  changed,  and  now 
the  nephew  had  the  best  of  it. 

"I'll  take  the  check  for  your  letters," 
observed  the  latter,  as  Golightley  smoked 
his  cigarette  in  silence.  Golightley  looked 
up,  and  the  eyes  of  the  men  met.  They 
were  at  bay ;  but  the  elder  had  the  most  to 
lose  ;  and  after  a  moment  he  spoke  with  fhe 
manner  of  a  man  who  accepts  the  inevitable 
with  the  best  grace  possible. 

"  Well,  since  you  insist  upon  being  one 
of  us,  you  ought  to  look  at  things  from  a 
family  point  of  view.  I'm  to  marry  the 
woman  to  whom  this  money  belongs;  not 
only  that,  but  I  should  never  have  laid  a  fin- 
ger on  the  money  if  I  hadn't  had  that  mar- 


234 


GARTH. 


riage  in  view.  It  wasn't  a  robbery  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  term — only  a  sort  of 
family  arrangement." 

"  You're  as  much  a  thief  as  I  am,"  was 
Sam's  gracious  interruption;  "and  I'm  as 
much  of  a  gentleman  as  you  are." 

"It  would  be  spoiling  two  good  things 
for  you  to  insist  too  much  upon  the  gentle- 
man. However,  my  point  is  this  :  In  pay- 
ing you  hush-money,  I  rob  her — my  future 
wife — and  defeat  the  object  for  which  I  en- 
gaged in  the  transaction  at  first.  You've 
had  more  than  a  fair  share  already.  "Will 
you  take  five  thousand  ?  I  appeal  to  you  as 
a  thief  and  a  man  of  honor." 

Sam  perceived  Golightley's  irony,  though 
he  could  not  perceive  his  object  in  being 
ironical  just  at  that  time.  He  answered 
doggedly : 

"  Ten  thousand  is  what  I'll  have,  Uncle 
Golightley,  'nd  more  afterward,  if  I  need  it. 
"Whichever  of  us  has  it,  it'll  be  in  the  family 
all  the  same,  you  know !  And  if  I  go  to  the 
devil,  the  rest  of  you  shall  go  along  with 
me." 

"  You  drive  a  hard  bargain,  Samuel," 
remarked  Golightley,  looking  at  the  half- 
breed  with  a  curious  expression  of  amuse- 
ment. "  Recollect  how  the  last  straw  broke 
the  camel's  back,  and  be  careful  to  stop  at 
the  last  but  one.  "Well,  I'll  write  you  the 
check.  You  know  our  bankers,  and  how 
to  manage  the  affair  with  safety  to  yourself. 
How  long  do  you  propose  to  remain  in  your 
present  quarters  ? " 

"  That's  my  own  lookout ;  just  you  write 
out  the  check." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  a  little  ready  money 
to  start  on  ?  If  you  travel  in  that  costume, 
with  a  check  for  ten  thousand  pounds  in 
your  pocket,  it  might  prove  awkward  for 
yon,  and  so  for  me."  He  took  out  his 
pocket-book.  "  I've  a  thousand  dollars  in 
gold  and  bank-notes  here ;  you'd  better  take 
them  and  get  yourself  an  outfit." 

Sam  took  the  money  and  examined  it 
closely,  being  naturally  suspicious  of  such 
kindly  thoughtfulness  on  the  part  of  his 
new-found  uncle.  But  both  notes  and  coin 
were  genuine,  and  the  half-breed  pocketed 
them  with  the  self-satisfied  grimace  of  & 
scamp  who  has  got  the  better  of  his  fellow. 


Golightley  now  arose  and  stepped  forth 
from  the  wigwam,  and  began  putting  on  his 
gloves  again.  "  I  shall  see  you  once  more, 
then,"  said  he,  turning  upon  his  host,  who 
stood  like  a  black  pillar  against  the  smoky 
light  that  glowed  within  the  wigwam. 
"  Perhaps,  by  that  time,  you'll  have  thought 
better  about  those  certificates.  I  sha'n't 
mind  writing  that  check  double  if  you  do." 

"  Good-night,  uncle !  "  was  all  Sam's 
reply. 

"  An  revoir !  you're  a  sharp  fellow,"  re- 
turned the  other,  and  went  out.  On  the 
landing  below  he  heard  the  sound  of  Eli- 
nor's singing.  Moving  softly  to  the  door, 
he  leaned  against  the  jamb,  and  listened 
there  until  the  song  ceased.  Then  he  stole 
back  to  his  chamber,  and  was  seen  no  more 
that  night. 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 

CRAFT. 

EVEE  since  his  quarrel  with  Madge  Dan- 
ver  in  the  pantry,  Jack  Selwyn  had  been 
asking  himself  whether  or  not  her  informa- 
tion regarding  the  robbery  was  extensive 
and  particular  enough  to  be  of  value :  and 
Madge,  on  the  other  hand,  had  amused  her- 
self with  mystifying  him  to  the  utmost  of 
her  power.  He  had  pretty  well  made  up 
his  mind  that  the  accomplice  of  whom  he 
was  in  search  was  named  Sam  Kineo ;  but, 
assuming  such  to  be  the  fact,  he  was  at  a  loss 
to  imagine  why  Madge  should  hesitate  to 
expose  him.  He  knew  that  the  two  had 
been  acquainted  in  childhood ;  but,  even 
supposing  an  attachment  to  have  existed  be- 
tween them  at  that  time,  it  was  not  credible 
that  it  should  survive  a  separation  of  ten 
years  or  more.  Neither  could  he  believe 
that  her  reticence  was  merely  whimsical, 
for  he  had  offered  her  substantial  induce- 
ments to  break  it.  And  finally,  if  she  really 
knew  nothing,  how  was  she  able  to  appear 
so  knowing? 

One  evening,  when  she  was  preparing 
to  return  from  Urmhurst  to  her  own  home, 
Jack  offered  to  accompany  her,  and  his 
escort  was  accepted.  It  was  a  cold,  bright 
night,  and  as  the  two  young  people  paced 


CRAFT. 


235 


arm-in-arm  together  beneath  the  leafless 
trees,  they  might  have  been  taken  for  a  pair 
of  lovers.  Indeed,  Madge,  glancing  at  Sel- 
wyn's  manly  face  out  of  the  corner  of  her 
long,  dark  eye,  may  have  sighed  to  think 
what  a  charming  wooer  ho  would  make ; 
and  Jack,  as  he  felt  the  light  pressure  of 
her  shoulder,  and  caught  the  outline  of  her 
glowing  cheek,  might  have  mused  how  sweet 
would  be  the  wooing  of  her.  But  it  did  not 
happen  to  be  their  destiny  to  love  each 
other.  The  conversation  proceeded  in  an 
unromantic  and  even  uninteresting  strain, 
until  Madge  exclaimed,  slipping  her  hand 
from  his  arm  and  stepping  aside  : 

"  Do  be  more  agreeable,  or  witty,  or 
something  !  Why  did  you  come  with  me  ? 
I  can  find  my  own  way  home  perfectly 
well." 

"  I've  been  wondering,  then,  how  you 
got  hold  of  my  letter  to  Garth,  and  what 
use  you  made  of  it  ?  " 

"  That  is  neither  witty  nor  agreeable, 
nor  even  polite.  If  you  have  reason  to  sus- 
pect me  of  knowing  anything  about  it,  you 
should  know  how  I  came  to  know ;  and,  if 
you  suspect  me  without  reason,  you  are  in- 
sulting !  " 

"  If  it  would  be  politer  to  believe  you  a 
witch — that's  my  only  alternative." 

"  That  is  to  say,  a  woman  with  brains 
must  be  either  dishonest  or  a  witch.  Per- 
haps there  are  other  ways  of  finding  out 
things  than  through  your  letters,  Mr.  Sel- 
wyn.  If  you  were  not  so  busy  with  your 
suspicions,  maybe  you'd  see  more.  Tell 
me  now  —  of  what  do  you  suspect  me  ? " 
She  bent  forward  and  looked  smiling  in  his 
face. 

"  Of  not  seeing  your  own  best  inter- 
ests." 

"  Yes ;  women  must  always  be  thinking 
of  their  best  interests — that's  men's  idea! 
— and  the  lower  the  interest,  of  course  the 
more  they  think  of  it." 

"No,  Miss  Madge.  Some  women  are 
disinterested — " 

"Elinor  Golightley,  for  instance — be- 
cause you  are  in  love  with  her.  But  if  she 
should  happen  to  marry  the  gentleman  to 
whom  she's  engaged,  maybe  you  wouldn't 
except  even  her.  What  right  have  yon  to 


treat  me  as  if  I  were  not  a  lady  ? "  she  went 
on,  angrily.  "  You  know  nothing  against 
me.  What  are  you  ?  Do  gentlemen  try  to 
get  on  the  right  side  of  women  when  they 
want  to  steal  something  from  them,  and  are 
not  clever  enough  to  get  what  they  are  after 
fairly  ? " 

"All  right,  Miss  Madge;  Til  be  plain 
with  you,  if  you  wish  it.  It's  true  that  I 
undertook  this  job  chiefly  for  Elinor  Go- 
lightley's  sake ;  but  that  is  nothing  to  the 
present  purpose.  But  it's  true,  too,  that  I 
do  suspect  you — of  intending  to  play  false 
with  Garth,  and  turn  all  this  trouble  to  your 
own  advantage." 

'•  But  how  I'm  going  to  make  it  turn  to 
my  own  advantage  is  more  than  you  can 
imagine — eh,  Mr.  Selwyn  ?  "  she  interposed, 
banteringly.  "  I  can  guess  your  thoughts. 
You  believe  that  Mr.  Golightley  Urmson 
has  done  something  very  wrong,  and  that  I, 
somehow  or  other,  have  found  it  out ;  and 
that  I  meant  either  to  marry  poor  Golight- 
ley or  to  blackmail  him,  and  then  run  away 
to  Europe  and  be  happy.  And  yet  you  were 
puzzled  at  my  being  such  a  goose  as  to 
receive  stolen  goods,  knowing  them  to  be 
such ;  and  you  wondered  why — if  money 
was  what  I  wanted — I  didn't  take  your  re- 
ward and  tell  all  I  knew.  Am  I  correct  so 
far,  Mr.  Selwyn  ? " 

"At  all  events,  you  guess  well,"  said 
Jack,  with  a  smile. 

"  Well,  perhaps  you'll  tell  me  the  rest  of 
your  suspicions  yourself." 

"  I'm  sure  you  can  do  it  better  than  I 
could." 

"  You  promised  to  be  straightforward, 
and  instead  of  that  you  are  sarcastic.  Well, 
I'll  play  my  own  part  and  yours  too.  Did 
you  never  hear  of  Sam  Kineo  ?  " 

"  I've  heard  of  a  Mr.  Flint—" 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  Mr.  Flint  is  Mr.  Kineo — 
that's  easy  enough.  Well,  he  and  I  used  to 
be  great  friends.  He  was  in  love  with  me, 
and  ...  a  great  many  things  might  have 
happened,  only  that  I  became  engaged  to 
Garth,  and  thought  it  to  my  interest  (as  you 
would  say)  not  to  break  with  him.  Of 
course,  I  wasn't  true  to  Garth,  because  I 
loved  him,  you  know  ;  I  shouldn't  think  of 
trying  to  make  a  clever  man  of  the  world 


236 


GAKTH. 


like  Mr.  Jack  Selwyn  believe  such  an  absurd 
thing  as  that." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  believe  ?  " 

"Only  what  you  can't  help  believing; 
but  please  don't  be  so  cross !  "Well,  Sam 
Kineo  has  written  to  me  several  times  since 
he  was  abroad ;  and  several  months  ago  he 
wrote  me  that  he  had  made  a  great  deal  of 
money,  and  wanted  —  me! — to  help  him 
spend  it.  But  my  best  interests,  as  usual, 
prevented  me  from  accepting  his  offer. 
Then,  only  a  little  while  ago  —  since  you 
came  here,  in  fact — he  wrote  me  that  he 
was  poor  again,  and — " 

"  He  wrote  you  since  I  have  been  here  ? " 

"Don't  get  excited,  Mr.  Selwyn,  please," 
said  Madge,  quietly  resuming  his  arm. 

"  Where  was  his  letter  dated  from  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I'm  not  sure  that  I  remember 
that!" 

"  I  have  reason  to  think  that  Sam  Kineo 
is  concealed  somewhere  in  this  neighbor- 
hood. Perhaps  you'll  let  me  see  his  letter? " 

"  It  wouldn't  be  right,  I'm  afraid,  with- 
out his  permission.  Besides,  if  he's  in  this 
neighborhood,  the  letter  must  be  a  forgery, 
so  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  you." 

"  Look  here !"  exclaimed  Jack,  impatient- 
ly, "damn  this  hide-and-seek  game!  I'll 
admit  I'm  not  your  equal  at  it.  If  you've 
anything  to  tell,  out  with  it,  in  your  own 
way !  You  know  whether  or  not  it  will  be 
worth  your  while.  But  if  you  only  want 
to  amuse  yourself — be  amused,  in  the  devil's 
name ! " 

"I  am  amused,  thank  you,"  said  she, 
with  a  low  laugh.  "  But  I  have  something 
to  tell  you  too.  This  Mr.  Flint,  as  you  call 
him,  had  a  plan  which  he  wanted  me  to 
help  him  in.  The  police,  it  seems,  after  try- 
ing to  catch  him  for  a  long  hime,  and  fail- 
ing, at  last  gave  him  to  understand  that  if 
he  would  come  forward  of  his  own  accord 
and  give  evidence  against  a  certain  person 
who  was  implicated  with  him,  he  should 
receive  a  free  pardon  for  himself." 

"  He  was  right,  so  far,"  remarked  Sel- 
wyn. 

"  But,  you  see,  one  reason  of  his  receiv- 
ing such  a  kind  offer  was,  that  he  had  lost 
all  his  money,  so  that  nothing  except  his 
evidence  could  be  got  out  of  him.  Well,  he 


thought  the  offer  over,  and  by-and-by  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  could  do  better." 

"  He  thought  so,  did  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  he  was  right.  This — 
certain  person,  you  know,  could  be  con- 
victed only  on  Mr.  Flint's  evidence — there 
would  be  no  use  in  arresting  him  without 
that ;  so  it  was  probable  that  he  would  be 
willing  to  pay  Mr.  Flint  a  good  deal — sev- 
eral thousand  pounds,  perhaps — to  destroy 
all  evidence  against  him.  And  this  letter 
that  I  received  asks  me  to  find  out  how 
much  money  this  certain  person  will  give  for 
the  evidence-papers;  and  if  the  bargain  is 
made,  I  am  to  hand  over  the  papers  to  the 
certain  person,  and  carry  the  money  to  Mr. 
Flint.  Isn't  that  a  good  plan?  and  don't 
you  think  it  would  be  to  my  best  interest  to 
help  in  it?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think." 

"  Oli,  then  it's  no  matter ;  especially  as 
I  have  given  him  my  answer." 

"  Given  him  your  answer  ? " 

"  I  wrote  him  to  send  me  the  papers,  and 
I  would  get  the  money  for  them." 

"  Gracious  God  !  "  muttered  Jack,  and 
plunged  into  a  silent  tumult  of  thought. 
Could  it  be  that  this  girl,  so  far  from  schem- 
ing dishonestly  for  her  own  advantage,  had 
actually  contrived  to  bring  both  thieves  to 
justice  by  her  unaided  ingenuity  ?  If  so, 
what  a  long  and  painful  apology  Jack  owed 
her !  But  it  was  his  instinct  to  distrust  her, 
and  even  yet  his  faith  was  weak.  "  Have 
you  got  the  papers  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  shouldn't  give  them  to  you,  Mr.  Jack 
Selwyn,  if  I  did  have  them." 

"  What  the  mischief  are  yon  going  to  do, 
then  ? " 

"  Well,  you  see,"  replied  Madge,  folding 
her  hands  demurely  in  her  muff  and  looking 
up  at  him,  "it  wouldn't  be  nice  to  have 
people  we  know  arrested  and  sent  to  prison, 
no  matter  what  they  had  done.  I'm  sure 
Mr.  Cuthbert  Urrnson  wouldn't  like  that, 
nor  Miss  Elinor  Golightley  either.  So  I 
thought  I  would  tell  the  certain  person  that 
I  had  the  evidence  against  him,  but  that  if 
he  would  give  back  the  money  to  the  per- 
son from  whom  it  was  stolen,  I  would  de- 
stroy the  evidence ;  and  nothing  more  should 
be  said  or  done  about  it." 


CRAFT. 


237 


Jack  mused  for  a  while,  twisting  his 
mustache  and  rubbing  his  chin.  "  It's  true 
enough,"  said  he,  "that  the  recovery  of  the 
money  is  the  main  thing,  and  that  arrests 
may  be  very  disagreeable  to  all  concerned ; 
but,  for  all  that,  we  have  no  right  to  com- 
pound a  felony.  "Why  should  you  shield 
these  two  scamps?  You  don't  really  care 
for  them?" 

"  I  care  for  the  honor  of  the  family,"  re- 
plied Madge,  after  a  pause. 

"The  honor  of  the  family  has  suffered 
all  it  can  already ;  punishing  those  who've 
dishonored  it  won't  make  matters  any  worse. 
Put  us  on  the  track  of  this  fellow  Flint,  or 
Kineo,  and  let  justice  take  its  course."  , 

"Are  you  quite  sure,  Mr.  Selwyn,  that 
you'd  be  so  anxious  justice  should  take  its 
course,  if  its  doing  so  would  not  clear  a  rival 
out  of  your  way  ?  " 

"The  thief  would  be  known  to  those 
most  concerned,  whether  he  were  publicly 
convicted  or  not :  it  would  be  the  same  to 
me  in  either  case." 

"  If  I  loved  a  man,"  exclaimed  Madge, 
quickly,  "I'd  stick  to  him  all  the  closer  if 
he  did  wrong  and  got  into  trouble !  " 

"  I  dare  say  you  would.  But,  since  you 
don't  love  such  a  man,  let's  understand  each 
other.  Your  plan  is  to  destroy  the  evidence- 
papers,  after  having  used  them  to  compel 
the  restoration  of  the  stolen  money  to  its 
owner.  But  have  the  papers  actually  been 
handed  over  to  you  ?  " 

She  appeared  to  hesitate,  and  finally  shook 
her  head. 

"I  thought  not:  and  it  isn't  likely  that 
Kineo  would  be  such  a  fool  as  to  let  you  have 
them  until  he  got  his  fingers  on  the  money. 
But,  look  here.  If  we  know  where  he  is, 
you  can  safely  pay  him  the  money,  and  we'll 
come  down  on  him  after  he's  received  it,  and 
bag  money,  papers,  and  all.  That's  the  only 
sure  way." 

"  If  Sam  Kineo  would  trust  *me  with 
knowing  where  he  was,  he  would  trust  me 
with  his  papers.  I  can  deceive  him  about 
the  money,  for  that  belongs  to  some  one  else ; 
but  his  liberty  belongs  to  him  ;  it  wouldn't 
be  fair  to  help  you  take  that  away  from 
him." 

"  Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  my  good  young 


friend,  don't  let  yourself  become  sentimen- 
tal about  such  a  blackguard !  If  he  trusts 
you,  depend  upon  it  he  trusts  you  to  be  a 
fool :  he  would  take  your  scalp  any  moment 
if  ho  thought  ho  could  get  five  dollars  for 
it!  " 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  murmured 
Madge,  gazing  guilelessly  up  in  her  com- 
panion's eyes.  "Is  he  such  a  villain  as 
that?" 

"  I'm  afraid  he  is,  Miss  Madge,"  replied 
Jack,  shaking  his  head. 

She  appeared  to  hesitate  awhile,  but 
finally  said:  "Don't you  think,  after  getting 
the  papers  from  him,  you  might  make  that 
certain  person  give  up  the  money  without 
sending  him  to  prison,  or  having  any  more 
trouble  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  for  mo  to  decide.  But,  if  you 
think  it  would  make  you  feel  better,  I'll  do 
what  I  can  to  bring  it  about." 

"  Well,  then — but  maybe  you  won't  be- 
lieve I'm  telling  you  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Good  Lord  !  Nobody  lies  without  an 
object,"  cried  Jack,  who  was  quite  at  the 
end  of  his  patience. 

"  And  since  you  see  no  object  in  my  tell- 
ing lies,  you  are  willing  to  believe  me  ?  You 
are  always  so  polite  !  " 

"  If  you  care  for  my  apologies,  Miss  Dan- 
ver,  you  shall  have  as  many  as  you  want, 
with  all  my  heart.  But  you  yourself  helped 
me  to  misjudge  you." 

She  put  her  hand  reluctantly  in  her  pock- 
et. "Do  you  know  Sam  Kineo's  hand- 
writing?— Very  well,  then,  this  letter  will 
tell  you  all  I  know.  I  don't  believe  you'll 
catch  him,  mind  !  The  address  is  not  very 
precise." 

Jack  took  the  letter,  and,  holding  it  in  the 
moonlight,  glanced  hastily  through  it.  "  The 
deuce!"  muttered  he;  "in  Canada!" 
Madge  watched  him  with  a  peculiar  sparkle 
in  her  eyes,  but  said  nothing.  "  I  shall  leave 
here  to-morrow,"  continued  Selwyn,  after 
another  examination  of  the  letter.  "  If  we 
succeed,  it  will  be  owing  to  you.  Of  course, 
you  won't  speak  of  this  to  any  one.  A  care- 
less word,  you  know,  might  do  as  much  harm 
as  you  have  done  good." 

"  I  shall  be  very  prudent,  Mr.  Selwyn," 
returned  Madge,  demurely.  "You  needn't 


238 


GARTH. 


come  any  farther  with   me — there  is  my 
house.    Good-night." 

"I  managed  that  well,"  said  Jack  self- 
approvingly  to  himself,  as  he  slammed  the 
door  of  his  bedchamber  half  an  hour  later, 
and  set  about  packing  his  valise.  "  But  I'll 


be  hanged  if  I  can  quite  see  through  that 
girl,  yet!" 

Sam  Kineo,  awakened  from  his  doze  in 
the  garret  by  the  noise  of  the  door,  muttered 
a  curse  on  the  world  in  general,  and  rolled 
up  his  head  in  the  blanket. 


BOOK  IX. 
FERMEN  TA  T 10  N. 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

LADY   ELEANOR. 

ONE  afternoon  Elinor  took  it  into  her 
head  to  have  a  look  at  the  studio.  No  one 
had  entered  this  room  since  the  occasion  of 
the  little  party's  assembling  there  in  the  au- 
tumn, to  see  the  unfinished  picture.  After 
standing  a  moment  or  two  on  the  threshold, 
she  went  in. 

A  gray  film  of  dust  had  gathered  over 
everything,  deepening  the  feeling  of  solitude 
and  desolation  which  the  studio  inspired. 
The  intruder  stepped  lightly,  as  one  who 
fears  to  awaken  a  sleeper.  Each  object  that 
met  her  eyes  seemed  entranced,  awaiting  the 
moment  when  a  spell  should  be  broken,  and 
the  frozen  stillness  change  to  genial  life.  It 
was  a  bitterly  cold  day,  and  the  skylight  was 
arabesqued  with  frost.  Glancing  toward  the 
fireplace,  Elinor  saw  a  small  pile  of  wood,  the 
remains  of  last  year's  fuel,  standing  behind 
the  stove.  She  kindled  a  fire ;  and  soon  the 
frost  on  the  skylight  began  to  liquefy,  the 
air  to  smell  faintly  of  heated  iron,  and  the 
dreary  influence  which  heretofore  had  brood- 
ed over  the  room  to  yield  to  the  benign  in- 
fluence of  flame. 

An  old  duster  of  peacock-feathers  was 
hanging  from  a  peg  beside  the  fireplace. 
She  disengaged  it,  and  was  about  to  whisk 
it  across  the  surface  of  the  dust-veiled  pict- 
ure on  the  easel.  On  second  thoughts,  how- 
ever, she  left  this  untouched,  and  contented 


herself  with  dusting  the  other  objects  in  the 
studio.  As  she  did  so,  the  recollection  of 
that  October  afternoon  returned  upon  her 
with  circumstantial  distinctness.  There  was 
the  very  sketch  upon  the  wall  which  Mr. 
Urmson  had  pointed  out  to  her,  and  com- 
mented upon  so  humorously.  Yonder,  in 
front  of  the  easel,  had  stood  Golightley,  his 
hand  upon  Garth's  shoulder,  and  speaking 
to  him  in  an  undertone,  while  the  artist 
leaned  against  the  back  of  the  chair,  with 
lowering  brows,  biting  his  lip.  On  the  sofa, 
Madge  and  Mrs.  Tenterden  laughed  and  chat- 
ted together.  Later,  when  the  rest  had 
gone,  Elinor  sat  on  the  same  sofa,  the  port- 
folio lying  open  between  her  and  Garth,  who 
was  so  preoccupied  that  only  her  involuntary 
outburst  of  laughter  had  aroused  him.  She 
smiled  again  at  that  recollection.  And  here 
was  the  same  sofa,  and  the  portfolio  just  as 
they  had  left  it  so  many  weeks  ago.  She 
sat  down  in  the  old  place,  and  thought  over 
all  that  they  had  spoken  together,  until  she 
could  almost  believe  that  he  was  once  more 
beside  her.  .  .  .  No!  she  was  alone. 

Having  furbished  up  the  neglected  studio, 
Elinor,  after  the  wont  of  benefactors,  con- 
ceived a  -kindness  for  it,  and  thenceforward 
used  it  as  her  boudoir.  She  had  not  much 
leisure;  for,  though  Garth  was  now  quite 
convalescent,  his  father  seemed  to  be  failing 
rapidly,  and  it  was  Elinor's  sad  pleasure  to 
be  his  nurse.  "When  occasion  served,  how- 
ever, she  would  quietly  mount  the  garret- 
stairs,  and,  having  made  her  fire  in  the  little 


LADY  ELEANOR. 


239 


stove,  sit  clown  to  read  or  ponder  over  the 
portfolio,  or  play  upon  her  violin.  No  one 
ever  disturbed  her  here,  or  even  seemed 
aware  of  her  retreat.  Even  Golightley  never 
sought  her  out;  but  his  manner  toward  her 
had,  during  the  last  few  weeks,  undergone 
a  welcome  change  from  flippant  gallantry  to 
unobtrusive  observance.  As  for  Jack  Sel- 
\vyn,  he  had  some  time  since  departed  on  a 
journey — whither  or  with  what  purpose  was 
not  declared. 

As  she  was  reclining  one  day  on  the 
sofa,  shaping  out  dreamy  forms  of  melody 
on  her  violin,  the  door  opened,  and  Garth 
came  in. 

"So  this  is  where  you  go?"  said  he. 
"  I've  heard  mysterious  music  for  the  last 
week  or  two.  The  old  studio  looks  comfort- 
able." 

"  You  shouldn't  have  come  up,"  exclaimed 
Elinor,  blushing  a  little.  "  What  if  you  were 
to  have  a  relapse !  You  must  lie  down  on 
'this  sofa." 

"  No  relapses  or  sofas  for  me !  I'm  going 
to  get  to  work  again  at  my  old  picture.  Go 
on  with  your  playing." 

"  I  was  going  down  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Don't — I  shall  work  better  to  music. 
Stay  a  little  while." 

He  sat  down  in  front  of  the  easel.  He 
was  far  from  robust-looking ;  but  the  fever 
seemed  to  have  filed  away  an  incrustation 
over  the  true  man,  leaving  the  spirit  in  him 
more  free  and  powerful.  His  expression  had 
lost  its  former  sullenness,  and  there  was 
something  really  beautiful  in  his  smile. 

"You  didn't  touch  this,"  he  remarked, 
nodding  toward  the  picture.  "  I'm  glad  you 
didn't — no  one  but  I  can  make  it  clean !  " 
He  seized  the  palette-cloth  as  he  spoke,  and 
rubbed  it  over  the  canvas,  which  glowed 
forth  once  more  in  the  sombre  brilliance  of 
its  coloring.  Then,  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
he  gazed  at  it  long  and  steadfastly,  as  he 
might  have  gazed  at  an  enemy  who  had 
fought  him  to  the  death.  At  length  he  took 
up  his  palette  and  brushes,  and  began  mixing 
some  fresh  tints. 

"  It  was  here  we  had  our  first  talk — do 
you  remember  it?  The  first,  and  the  last, 
but  one !  The  other  was  at  the  picnic ;  and 
now  here  we  are  again.  After  all,  it's  less 


than  a  dozen  weeks,  altogether.  But  we 
must  forget  each  other  now,  and  set  to 
work.  You  play  me  something,  and  I'll 
paint  it." 

After  some  little  wandering  prelude,  Eli- 
nor rose  by  degrees  to  the  full  height  of 
musical  possession,  and  played  as  she  had 
never  played  to  any  one  but  Garth.  Like 
all  profound  musicians,  she  penetrated  to 
the  soul  of  facts  and  incidents ;  she  saw  the 
story  of  her  life  translated  into  large  mean- 
ings, and  with  subtile  bow  and  faultless  fin- 
gers she  gave  the  vision  utterance.  Art  is 
the  duct  through  which  divinity  reaches 
man,  and  there  are  moments  when  the  duct 
becomes  a  river,  and  the  artist  prophesies 
with  a  voice  greater  than  his  own — the  cre- 
ative voice  that  harmonizes  all  things.  But 
insomuch  as  every  interpretation  smacks  of 
the  interpreter  there  was  so  much  of  Elinor's 
personality  in  her  music  that  Garth,  inspired 
Avith  it,  was  in  truth  inspired  with  her.  He 
painted  rapidly  and  vehemently,  and  yet  in 
a  kind  of  trance.  It  was  the  emotional  side 
of  the  man  that  was  at  work ;  his  intellectual 
and  material  parts  acted  merely  as  instru- 
ments. 

At  length  Elinor  lowered  her  bow,  and 
Garth  his  brush,  both  with  a  sense  'of  ex- 
haustion, as  after  intense  albeit  unheeded 
exercise.  Drops  of  sweat  stood  on  Garth's 
forehead,  and  his  hands  trembled.  After  a 
few  moments  he  got  up,  and,  walking  with 
a  heavy  step  to  the  sofa,  sat  down  there 
wearily. 

"You  see,  you  were  not  strong  enough," 
Elinor  said,  with  an  upbraiding  smile. 

"  Yes,  I  was;  for  it's  done." 

"I'm  very  glad,"  said  she,  with  a  long 
breath. 

"  So  am  I !  "  rejoined  he  ;  and  there  was 
a  happy  look  in  his  deep-set  eyes. 

"  May  I  see  it  ?  " 

"  Yes — in  a  few  minutes.  I  don't  know 
myself  what  I've  painted  yet.  The  music 
did  more  of  it  than  I." 

After  a  pause,  he  continued  :  "  In  fact, 
it's  been  your  doing  from  the  beginning. 
You  first  set  me  fermenting  that  day  up 
here  ;  then  you  shamed  the  devil  out  of  me 
at  the  picnic ;  and  you  saved  my  life  in  the 
fever." 


240 


GARTH. 


"  I  should  like  to  think  I  had  helped  you. 
I  was  useless  before  I  met  you." 

"  You  shaVt  find  it  useless  to  have 
helped  me." 

They  had  fallen  unawares  upon  a  region 
of  emotion  which  was  perilous,  yet  hard  to 
escape  from.  There  was  much  that  they 
might  say  to  each  other. 

"  A  man  can  only  begin  to  be  happy 
when  he  sees  that  happiness  is  not  good  for 
him.  It  is  hard  to  take  things  to  heart  and 
yet  keep  tender-hearted — isn't  it?  " 

"  I  suppose  we  live  here  so  as  to  become 
strong  enough  for  heaven.  It  takes  strength 
to  bear  worldly  happiness ;  and  eternal  hap- 
piness— " 

"  If  I  become  strong  enough  to  be  your 
friend,  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

"  Then  be  satisfied !  "  said  Elinor,  smiling, 
but  with  tears.  Garth  took  her  extended 
hand,  and  held  it  for  a  breath  or  two,  meet- 
ing her  eyes  the  while.  The  world  seemed 
far  off",  but  whether  joy  or  pain  were  migh- 
tiest in  their  hearts,  they  knew  not.  But 
they  knew  that  in  the  last  few  minutes  they 
had  lived. 

It  is  the  profoundest  emotion  that  soon- 
est veils  itself.  Garth  presently  stretched 
up  his  arms,  clasped  his  hands  behind  his 
head,  and  said,  with  a  smile : 

"  I  shall  be  a  great  artist,  after  all — an 
old  master !  I  feel  immense  confidence  in 
myself!  Other  artists  have  not  had  my  in- 
spiration. The  world  ought  to  know  that 
my  best  pictures  were  painted  with  a  vio- 
lin." 

"  I  like  better  that  the  violin  should  be 
hidden  in  the  pictures,"  said  she,  tremu- 
lously. 

"  Well — as  the  soul  is  hidden  in  the  body. 
But  the  soul  outlasts  the  body  ;  so  you  will 
get  your  deserts  at  last." 

"  Oh,  I  have  them  now  !  " 

"Let  us  see  what  I  have  been  doing 
here ! "  exclaimed  Garth,  abruptly,  rising 
from  the  sofa.  "  The  light  will  be  gone  in 
half  an  hour  more." 

At  this  juncture,  however,  Madge  and 
Golightley  climbed  the  garret-stairs,  knocked 
and  entered. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  laughed  the 
former,  glancing  at  her  companion.  "  Dear 


me,  how  cozy  everything  looks! — It  was  so 
kind  of  you,  dear  Elinor,  to  think  of  bring- 
ing that  poor  black-and-white  creature  up 
here  for  a  change !  " 

Golightley  stood  by  in  silence  ;  his  usual 
volubility  a.nd  self-importance  seemed  to 
have  deserted  him  of  late.  Garth  explained 
laconically  that  he  was  an  intruder  in  the 
studio,  not  a  guest. 

"  But  music  and  painting  belong  togeth- 
er, as  we  all  know,"  returned  Madge,  light- 
ly. "  I  suppose  you  inspire  one  another." 

"I  have  kept  you  waiting  a  long  time 
for  your  picture,"  remarked  Garth,  turning 
to  his  uncle,  "  and  now  I  have  no  picture  for 
you.  Come  and  see." 

They  all  moved  in  front  of  the  canvas. 
Garth  was  himself  the  first  to  break  the  mo- 
mentary silence  that  ensued.  lie  glanced  at 
Elinor  and  murmured : 

"  It  was  a  real  inspiration  !  " 

"  What  ? "  demanded  Madge,  sharply, 
setting  her  small,  white  teeth  against  her 
under  lip. 

"  H'm — yes — I  see  !  "  muttered  Golight- 
ley, adjusting  his  eye-glasses,  and  bending 
forward.  "  You've  painted  Margaret  out  and 
Elinor  in.  An  inspiration,  sure  enough !  " 

"  Of  course,  the  alteration  puts  an  end 
to  our  bargain.  I  preferred  to  follow  my 
own  judgment. — But  I'd  no  idea  I  was  paint- 
ing you,  Elinor  !  it's  strange !  " 

"  I  don't  think  it  looks  much  like  me," 
Elinor  said. 

"  Not  pretty  enough,  of  course,"  began 
Madge. 

"I  mean,  it's  idealized  too  much  to  be 
called  a  likeness,"  interrupted  the  other,  with 
one  of  her  point-blank  looks. 

"  But  at  least  you  think  it  better  than 
mine  ?  "  Madge  continued,  the  blood  rushing 
into  her  cheeks. 

Elinor  turned  upon  her  again,  and  said, 
coldly : 

"It  is  better  than  yours,  for  the  pict- 
ure." 

"  Garth,  you  said  just  now  that  our  bar- 
gain was  off,"  observed  Golightley,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  artist's  shoulder.  "  By 
George!  BO  say  I,  too.  The  picture,  as  it 
was  yesterday,  was  a  fine  picture — worth  a 
thousand  pounds  to  me,  and  more  to  a  richer 


BETWEEN  DARKNESS  AND   LIGHT. 


man.  But,  as  it -stands  there  at  this  mo- 
ment, Garth  Urmson,  it's  worth  ten  times 
that— a  hundred  times  that!  With  those 
few  rapid  touches  you  have  wrought  a  mira- 
cle ;  and  I  believe,  from  my  soul,  that  you 
have  painted  the  greatest  picture  of  its  kind 
that  there  is  in  the  world!  By  George, 
Garth,  I  mean  what  I  say !  " 

Indeed,  it  was  very  evident,  both  from 
the  tone  of  Uncle  Golightley's  voice  and  the 
workings  of  his  countenance,  that  he  was 
unusually  moved.  Everybody  was  surprised, 
not  only  at  his  emotion,  but  at  his  words. 
The  greatest  picture  of  its  kind  in  the  world  ! 
They  all  looked  again  at  the  canvas.  The 
light  was  already  fading,  but  the  face  of  the 
new  Lady  Eleanor  gleamed  forth  with  mar- 
velous power.  The  greatest  in  the  world ! 
Was  it  not  so,  indeed  ? 

"  I'm  afraid  Uncle  Golightley  won't  have 
money  enough  to  pay  for  it,"  remarked 
Madge,  dryly.  The  light  had  faded  quite  out ; 
the  spell  was  broken.  The  picture  had  lived 
its  moment.  But  if  it  had  touched  the  top 
of  art,  and  found  appreciation,  a  moment 
was  long  enough. 

"  By-the-by,  my  dear  Elinor,"  said  Go- 
lightley,  as  they  turned  away  from  the  easel, 
"Mildred  sent  me  up  here  to  find  you.  She 
wants  to  ask  you  something  about  Cuthbert's 
medicine.  Shall  we  go  down  ?  " 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

BETWEEN   DARKNESS   AND   LIGHT. 

WHEN  the  two  had  taken  their  departure, 
Madge  threw  herself  down  on  the  sofa  and 
burst  out  laughing,  holding  her  handkerchief 
before  her  mouth  and  biting  it  with  her  teeth. 
Meanwhile  she  watched  Garth  with  an  angry 
sparkle  in  her  eyes.  She  looked  as  danger- 
ous as  she  was  beautiful.  Garth  had  re- 
mained in  front  of  the  picture,  but  his  face 
was  turned  toward  her.  Suddenly  she 
stopped  laughing  and  exclaimed  • 

"  Do,  pray,  look  somewhere  else.  Isn't 
the  greatest  picture  in  the  world  better 
worth  studying  than  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  wasn't  looking  at  you  as  an  artist." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  suppose  not.  I'm  not  good 
16 


enough  for  pictures.  You  were  only  looking 
at  me  as  a  lover — a  true,  devoted,  passionate 
lover — ha,  ha,  ha !  " 

"  I  expected  you  to  be  angry." 

"What!  angry  because  I  caught  you 
flirting  with  Elinor  Golightley  ?  My  own 
sweet  Garth,  you  were  never  more  mis- 
taken !  Did  you  imagine  I  haven't  seen 
what's  been  going  on  between  you  two  from 
the  first  ?  I  understand  it — it's  an  artistic 
affinity,  that's  all!" 

A  flash  of  resentment  crossed  Garth's 
face,  and  he  turned  away. 

"I  want  you  to  listen  to  me,"  said  Madge, 
in  a  low,  smooth  voice,  leaning  forward 
toward  him  with  an  undulation  of  the  neck 
and  shoulders,  as  of  a  tiger  creeping  to  am- 
bush. "  Come  and  sit  by  me,  please." 

lie  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down  before 
her.  "  Try  not  to  say  what  is  disgraceful, 
Madge — for  your  own  sake." 

"  Or  for  Elinor's  sake — which  ?  You  are 
an  impostor,  Garth  Urmson !  I  don't  care 
how  wicked  a  man  is,  if  only  he  lets  it  be 
known,  and  isn't  afraid.  If  you  had  said, 
long  ago,  l  I'm  tired  of  you — I'm  going  off 
with  another  woman ! ' — if  you'd  strike  me, 
now,  for  saying  what  I'm  saying,  instead  of 
sitting  there  with  your  hands  in  your  pockets, 
pretending  you're  shocked  and  grieved — ha, 
ha,  ha,  ha !  " 

Garth  lowered  his  eyes ;  he  made  no  reply. 
Madge  was  drawn  up  on  the  sofa,  resting 
her  cheek  on  her  clinched  white  hand ;  she 
kept  one  position,  yet  a  subtile,  continuous 
motion  vibrated  through  her  body  and  limbs. 
There  was  a  look  in  her  eyes  which  Garth  did 
not  choose  to  meet.  Such  looks  are  harder 
to  forget  than  the  most  poisonous  words. 

"You  may  find  that  you'd  better  have 
sold  your  picture  as  it  was,  instead  of  taking 
all  that  trouble  to  insult  me.  Golightley 
won't  buy  it  now,  for  all  his  talk ;  and  I'd 
have  let  you  go  and  welcome  without  your 
throwing  away  a  thousand  pounds.  You 
think  Elinor  can  make  it  up  to  you ;  but 
what  if  she  didn't  get  back  her  fortune  after 
all  ?  Do  you  suppose  she  could  make  you  as 
rich  as  I  could  have  done  ?  I  wish  you  were 
worth  being  jealous  of — but  I  can  live  as  I  like 
in  spite  of  you  !  What  do  you  know  of  how 
a  woman  mav  love  a  man  ?  I  wish  I  did  love 


242 


GAUTII. 


you — for  an  hour — so  that  I  might  show  you 
what  love  is,  and  then  leave  you  to  want  me 
forever!  I  wonder  that  there's  a  single 
good  woman  in  the  world !  I  don't  believe 
there  is,  unless  she's  a  fool !  " 

These  wild  sentences  followed  each  other 
rapidly,  with  low-toned,  malignant  emphasis. 
Still  looking  down,  Garth  said,  huskily : 

"How  came  such  thoughts  into  your 
mind?" 

"  They  are  the  truth." 

"They  are  false!  "  said  he,  in  a  voice 
that  made  her  shrink.  He  raised  his  eyes, 
and  such  was  the  light  of  indignation  in 
them,  that  the  expression  of  the  woman's 
face  was  quenched.  Though  she  knew  that 
Garth  would  never  harm  a  hair  of  her  head, 
she  felt  the  thrill  of  absolute  fear.  Some- 
thing he  would  do ! 

"  What  makes  you  beautiful  ?  "  he  asked, 
sternly  and  sadly.  Other  words  seemed 
about  to  follow,  but  he  held  them  back. 
That  one  question  was  pregnant  enough.  It 
entered  into  Madge's  soul,  and  made  her 
know  that  all  power  of  her  physical  fascina- 
tion was  thenceforth  at  an  end  with  him. 
If  she  would  regain  him  now,  it  must  be  by 
other  means.  But  what  other  means  had 
she?  She  had  worshiped  her  beauty,  con- 
quered by  it,  risked  her  future  upon  it.  If 
it  were  despised,  what  was  left  her  ? 

"  Make  me  ugly,  then !  "  she  whispered, 
setting  her  teeth;  "strike  my  face!  crush 
me !  "  She  was  half  beside  herself. 

"I  could  give  you  no  other  beauty  in- 
stead of  that." 

She  caught  a  tone  of  compassion  in  his 
voice,  and  the  idea  that  he  pitied  her 
drove  her  mad.  She  sprang  up  with  a 
wild  look,  and  the  thought,  "I  will  kill 
myself!  " 

Glancing  about,  her  eyes  lighted  on  the 
rusty  cutlass  that  hung  above  the  fireplace. 
She  glided  round  Garth,  leaped  up  with  a 
sharp  cry  and  caught  it  down.  Awkwardly, 
but  with  good-will  enough,  she  aimed  a  sort 
of  thrust  at  herself.  Garth  was  in  time  to 
turn  the  blow  aside;  then  he  struck  the 
weapon  from  her  grasp.  She  screamed  with 
rage,  and  sprang  for  it  again.  It  had  fallen 
at  the  foot  of  the  easel ;  as  she  rose  with  it 
in  her  hand,  the  picture  confronted  her. 


Instantly  she  plunged  the  blade  through  the 
canvas,  cutting  and  stabbing  until  every  ves- 
tige of  the  new  Lady  Eleanor  was  destroyed, 
and  the  entire  painting  was  a  mass  of 
tatters.  This  done,  she  looked  round  for 
Garth. 

The  excitement  of  the  afternodn,  culmi- 
nating in  Madge's  desperate  attempt  against 
herself,  had  been  too  much  for  the  convales- 
cent, and,  the  moment  after  disarming  her, 
he  had  fainted  away.  Madge  saw  him  lying 
face  downward  on  the  floor,  and  felt  her 
blood  thicken  with  horror ;  for  her  first  idea 
was  that  he  had  been  wounded  by  the  cut- 
lass in  the  struggle,  and  was  dead.  She  got 
on  her  knees  beside  him,  took  him  in  her 
arms,  and,  with  the  unconscious  strength  of 
excitement,  rose  and  fairly  carried  him  to 
the  sofa.  Then  she  searched  for  a  wound 
or  a  blood-stain ;  but  there  was  none  to 
be  found.  It  was  only  a  fainting-fit — with 
a  sob  of  relief  in  her  throat  that  assurance 
came  to  her  at  last.  She  herself  was  worse 
used  than  he.  Her  dark  hair  hung  loose 
upon  her  shoulders,  the  bosom  of  her  dress 
was  torn  open,  the  wrist  which  he  had 
struck  was  bruised,  and  there  was  a  thin  cut 
across  her  left  palm. 

She  lifted  his  powerless  hand  to  her  lips 
and  kissed  it ;  then  put  it  in  her  bare  bosom 
and  let  her  heart  beat  against  it.  "  Do  I  not 
love  him  ? "  she  asked  herself.  "  I  would  die 
for  him.  But  I  can't  get  up  to  him;  and 
now  he  doesn't  care  that  I  am  beautiful." 

The  fainting  man  gave  a  sigh ;  she  took 
his  hand  from  her  bosom  and  stood  up.  "If 
I  only  had  some  cordial !  "  she  thought ;  and 
in  a  moment  an  idea  struck  her,  and  she 
swiftly  left  the  room. 

Sam  Kineo,  moodily  smoking  on  his  pile 
of  blankets,  was  startled  by  her  sudden  en- 
trance and  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  What's  the 
matter  now?  "  he  whispered;  "police?  " 

"Give  me  your  brandy — quick!  Garth 
has  fainted." 

"  Garth  ?  bah !— let  him  faint." 

"  Sam  Kineo,  you  must  give  it  me." 

"  Must,  eh?  I  see,  you're  making  love  to 
him  again!  Now,  don't  get  excited,  my  lit- 
tle dear ;  the  brandy's  safe  in  my  coat-pock- 
et. But,  before  you  get  it,  you'll  have  to 
give  me  a  kiss.  Come,  now  !  " 


BETWEEN  DARKNESS  AND  LIGHT. 


243 


"  I  will  never — " 

"  Then  you  don't  get  the  brandy." 

" 0  Sam,  don't  ask  me  now — only  not 
this  time !  I'll  come  back  afterward —  Oh, 
any  time  but  now  !  " 

"Any  time  won't  do.  Tell  you  what. 
my  little  beauty,  I  won't  stand  this  dodging 
about — pleasant 's  pie-crust  in  the  morning, 
'nd  flustering  up  in  the  evening!  You'll 
just  give  me  a  nice,  affectionate  kiss,  and 
then  you  may  go  to  dear  Garth  with  the 
brandy." 

Madge  felt  that  she  must  submit.  She 
had  put  herself  in  the  way  of  evil  with  her 
eyes  open,  and  had  ere  now  discovered  that 
it  is  not  so  easy  to  play  fast  and  loose  with 
evil  as  with  good.  The  spirit  of  darkness 
stretched  out  its  arms,  as  Sam  did  now,  and 
forced  her  to  yield  him  tribute. 

"  Very  well ;  do  as  you  like,"  said  she,  in 
a  hard,  hopeless  tone.  Sam  chuckled,  and, 
having  exacted  full  payment  for  his  brandy, 
suffered  her  to  take  it.  At  the  door  she 
turned  and  said,  "  You  will  be  sorry  for  this 
all  your  life."  The  half-breed  only  laughed 
his  noiseless  laugh,  and  she  came  out.  But 
her  returning  step  had  lost  all  spring  and 
lightness,  and  on  the  threshold  of  the  studio 
she  faltered,  shamed  and  wretched,  and  half- 
minded  to  steal  away  again.  Nevertheless 
she  entered,  and  found  Garth  already  in  part 
recovered.  The  brandy  was  not  needed, 
after  all.  "I  wonder  if  he'd  thank  me," 
thought  the  girl,  "  if  he  knew  what  I  paid 
for  it !  " 

" I've  not  done  much  good  to-day!  "  was 
Garth's  first  observation. 

"That's  a  thing  one  soon  gets  used  to," 
she  rejoined,  with  bitter  lightsomeness. 

"Madge — with  all  my  heart  I  want  to  be 
good  to  you,"  said  he,  gently.  "  I'm  partly  an- 
swerable for  what  you  said  and  did,  to-day." 

"No,  no,  no!  It  would  make  no  differ- 
ence to  me  to  be  answerable  for  much  worse 
things." 

"  That  alteration  in  the  picture  was  not 
the  insult  to  you  that  it  seemed  to  be.  It's 
the  first  thing  I  have  done  to  make  me  worth 
an  honest  woman's  marrying." 

At  the  mention  of  the  picture,  it  occurred 
to  Madge  that  probably  Garth  had  not  seen 
her  act  of  vandalism.  She  stepped  to  the 


easel  and  moved  it  so  that  he  could  behold 
the  tattered  canvas.  lie  gazed  straight  at  it 
for  an  appreciable  time,  and  asked — 

"  Did  you  do  that  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

lie  clutched  his  hair  and  laughed  so  pleas- 
antly and  unexpectedly,  that  Madge  bright- 
ened up  for  a  moment  as  if  sunshine  had 
fallen  on  her. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  it's  done,"  said  he. 
"  The  old  picture  has  served  its  purpose,  and 
was  destroyed  at  the  most  fitting  moment. 
My  girl,  let  us  annihilate  our  past  in  the  same 
way — the  bad  and  foolish  part  of  it,  I  mean. 
This  shall  be  our  last  quarrel." 

He  tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  drew 
it  away.  "Don't  think  I'm  angry —  Or 
think  what  you  please!  There's  blood  on 
my  hand — it's  a  bad  omen.  I've  been 
naughty;  I'm  not  good  enough  yet.  Per- 
haps— to-morrow !  " 

"Did  you  cut  yourself?  " 

"  Only  a  little  scratch :  I'm  sure  it  might 
have  been  much  worse — or  better !  Yes,  why 
did  you  interfere  ?  You'd  have  h  ad  your  pict- 
ure safe  and  me  out  of  the  way  by  now." 

"  Nothing  would  be  safe  for  me  without 
you,  Madge." 

"  Don't  speak  so !  If  I  don't  laugh,  I 
shall  cry — or  go  mad  again!  Don't  touch 
me.  I  tell  you  I'm  not  ready." 

"  Only  say  we  shall  be  married  soon." 

"  So  that  you  can  say,  '  I  kept  my  promise 
to  her ! '  You  don't  love  me.  Why  don't  you 
tell  me  the  truth  about  Elinor  Golightley?  " 

"  There  are  some  things  a  man  had  bet- 
ter not  put  too  plainly  even  to  himself.  At 
least,  Madge,  I  have  never  thought  of  mar- 
rying any  one  but  you.  My  fever  has  given 
me  time  to  think,  and  I  believe  that  if  I  ever 
wanted — something,  it  was  because  I  knew 
I  could  never  have  it — not  because  it  was  the 
thing  for  me  to  have." 

After  a  long  pause,  Madge  said :  "  I  didn't 
hate  the  picture  for  being  altered.  But  why 
did  you  put  her  in  my  place  ?  " 

"  I  did  it  unconsciously." 

Madge  sat  a  few  moments  as  if  preoc- 
cupied, then  rose  with  a  tired  look.  "  Thank 
you  for  telling  me  all  this,"  said  she.  "  Of 
course,  I  don't  understand  much  of  it —  You 
can't  expect  me  to  understand  things  by 


GARTH. 


Sympathy,  as  some  people  do.     But  you  are 
very  kind  to  tell  me." 

"  You'll  understand  when  we're  married." 
"Perhaps  I'd  better  not  understand. 
But  we'll  talk  about  being  married  some 
other  time,  when  you  are  stronger,  and  I'm 
in  a  better  humor.  The  fire  has  gone  out, 
too,  and  Elinor  would  scold  me  if  I  kept  you 
here  in  the  cold." 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

DATES    AND   INITIALS. 

AFTER  Garth  and  Madge  had  left  the 
studio  that  evening,  and  Madge  had  gone 
home,  he  remembered  that  he  had  left  the 
door  unlocked ;  and  since  it  seemed  inadvis- 
able that  the  summary  fate  of  the  picture 
should  become  known  just  then,  he  mounted 
the  garret-stairs  again,  shortly  before  going 
to  bed,  in  order  to  make  all  safe. 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  a  gust  of  air 
blew  out  his  lamp.  He  groped  his  way 
toward  the  studio,  found  the  door,  and  en- 
tered. It  was  dark,  save  for  a  slight  glow 
of  red  through  the  draught-holes  of  the  little 
stove.  It  seemed  to  Garth,  however,  that 
he  was  not  alone  in  the  room.  He  stood 
quite  still  and  listened  intently,  but  there  was 
no  sound.  He  moved  toward  the  stove  to 
get  a  match  from  the  box  on  the  wall  beside 
it ;  his  leg  struck  the  chair,  and  it  fell  over 
with  some  racket.  A  moment  afterward  he 
fancied  he  heard  a  step,  light  and  stealthy,  in 
the  passage  outside  the  room ;  and  then — 
unless  his  ears  deceived  him — a  door  closed 
softly — the  door  of  Nikomis's  apartment. 
Had  she  been  in  here  before  he  came  ?  If 
so,  for  what  purpose  ?  and  why  had  she  stolen 
away  so  stealthily  ? 

He  now  struck  a  match,  lit  his  lamp,  and 
looked  about  him.  Everything  appeared 
much  in  the  same  condition  as  he  had  left 
it  a  few  hours  before.  There  stood  the  tat- 
tered canvas  on  the  easel ;  on  the  floor  lay 
the  cutlass;  and  the  other  evidences  of 
Madge's  outbreak  and  his  struggle  with  her 
were  present.  There  were  no  signs  of  any 
foreign  disturbance.  Possibly  his  senses 
had  deceived  him;  at  all  events,  Nikomis 


was  welcome  to  enter  his  studio  if  she 
wanted  to ;  only,  why  should  she  have  been 
at  such  pains  to  get  away  undiscovered? 
After  some  reflection,  Garth  dismissed  the 
subject  from  his  mind,  as  of  no  possible  im- 
portance ;  and  having  locked  the  door,  and 
put  the  key  in  his  pocket,  he  returned  down- 
stairs. 

During  the  next  ten  days  the  artist  was 
content  to  lay  his  art  aside,  and  to  devote 
himself  exclusively  to  the  business  of  regain- 
ing health  and  strength  ;  and  they  returned 
to  him  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  false  Lady  Eleanor  had  been 
the  bar  to  his  recovery,  if  not  the  cause  it- 
self of  his  illness ;  and  now  that  she  was  an- 
nihilated, the  sick  man  might  arise.  Garth 
was  light-hearted,  energetic,  and  serene. 
He  walked,  sleighed,  or  skated,  day  after  day, 
breathed  deep  of  the  clear  cold  air,  and  ate 
enormously.  Ho  was  even  sociable,  was 
seen  often  in  the  village,  and  became  known 
and  liked  there  as  he  had  never  been  before. 
Everybody  remarked  the  change  in  him  for 
the  better,  and  congratulated  him  upon  it. 
Mrs.  Tenterden  merrily  supposed  that  it 
must  be  the  prospect  of  being  so  soon  mar- 
ried that  was  bringing  him  round ;  and  Garth 
did  not  deny  it.  In  fact,  it  was  his  deter- 
mination to  be  married  in  the  ensuing 
spring,  and  he  spoke  much  with  Madge 
about  their  future,  and  urged  her  to  use  all 
due  dispatch  with  her  preparations.  And 
Madge  seemed  to  be  more  than  usually  active 
with  her  needle,  though  she  could  hardly 
have  expected  to  manufacture  an  entire 
trousseau  herself.  She  was  not  so  full  of 
bright  talk  as  usual,  but  often  fell  into  long 
silences;  and  when,  occasionally,  she  al- 
lowed herself  an  outburst  of  vivacity,  a 
certain  hardness  was  apparent  in  her  voice 
and  manner,  seeming  to  indicate  an  absence 
of  genuine  feeling,  and  suggesting  a  latent 
bitterness.  In  her  ordinary  conversation, 
she  betrayed  a  curious  and  almost  morbid 
interest  in  her  own  condition  and  prospects. 
She  put  hypothetical  cases  and  worked  out 
imaginary  situations  for  herself.  But  such 
eccentricities  are  not  uncommon  with  young 
women  for  whom  a  great  change  in  life  is 
imminent;  and  Madge's  odd  behavior  gave 
anxiety  to  no  one. 


DATES  AND  INITIALS. 


Garth  made  himself  especially  agreeable 
to  poor  Mrs.  Danver,  who  had  been  serious- 
ly ill  of  late,  and  did  not  seem  likely  to  sur- 
vive very  much  longer.  lie  visited  her  every 
day,  and  she  became  deeply  and  favorably 
impressed  with  him :  insomuch  that  so  far 
from  carping  at  him,  as  had  heretofore  been 
her  custom,  she  now  took  to  extolling  him 
in  and  out  of  season.  She  declared — what, 
indeed,  was  the  truth — that  she'd  never  had 
the  chance  to  know  him  for  what  he  was 
before;  and  glad  she  was,  and  didn't  care 
who  knew  it,  that  Madge  was  to  have  a  hus- 
band who  was  a  gentleman,  and  a  clever, 
sober,  kind-hearted  man,  what  was  more ; 
for  she  would  like  to  know  how  many  there 
were  like  him  that  would  come  and  sit  an 
hour  or  two  every  day  beside  a  poor,  sick, 
complaining  woman,  who'd  never  had  much 
sympathy  nor  consideration  that  ever  she 
could  remember;  which  it  wouldn't  have 
been  her  fate  to  say,  as  say  it  she  must,  if 
there'd  been  more  people,  young  or  old,  like 
Mr.  Garth  Urmson.  And  all  that  troubled 
her  now  was,  that  that  strange  child  Maggie 
didn't  at  times  more  than  half  seem  to  ap- 
preciate her  good  fortune;  not  that  she 
supposed  that  there  would  be  much  fortune, 
leastways  at  first,  in  the  worldly  point  of 
view:  though  there  was  the  Eve  legacy 
would  likely  be  coming  round  to  those  the 
Lord  properly  intended  it  for  one  of  these 
days :  but  money  was  not  everything,  though 
times  there  were  she  almost  feared  her 
Maggie  took  that  view ;  and,  if  she  did,  all 
Mrs.  Danver  could  say  was,  it  wasn't  from 
her  mother  that  the  girl  got  such  worldly  no- 
tions, nor  would  she  ever  cease  to  raise  her 
voice  against  it.  These  declarations  were  gen- 
erally made  to  Mrs.  Tenterden,  who  laughed 
incredulously  at  any  exceptions  taken  against 
the  beauty  who  had  won  her  own  heart, 
and  affirmed  that  two  young  people  more 
in  love  than  Garth  and  Madge  she  had  never 
seen — unless  it  were  Golightley  and  Elinor. 

About  a  week  before  Christmas,  Garth 
was  visited  with  an  idea,  which,  after  he  had 
turned  it  over  in  his  own  mind  for  a  while, 
he  resolved  to  communicate  to  Madge.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  took  possession  of  her  as  soon 
as  she  arrived  at  Urmhurst,  and  carried  her 
up  to  the  studio. 


"  You  must  help  me  look  over  the 
sketches,"  he  explained,  "  and  pick  out 
those  which  would  be  most  likely  to  sell. 
I  shall  take  them  to  Boston  and  sell  them  to 
some  picture  dealer.  They  ought  to  bring 
four  or  five  hundred  dollars,  at  least." 

"What  could  you  do  with  four  or  five 
hundred  dollars,  Garth  ?  " 

"At  least  I  could  buy  a  wedding-ring 
with  it,"  he  answered,  smiling  at  her. 

"  Do  you  really  want  me  for  your  wife?  " 
she  asked,  glancing  at  him  sidelong. 

"  If  you  were  at  the  other  side  of  the 
world,  I'd  leave  everything  to  bring  you 
back." 

"But  suppose,  after  all,  I  wouldn't  come 
with  you  ? " 

"  If  I  found  you,  you  would  come." 

"  Well,  perhaps !  for  you  are  very  strong. 
But,  then,  I  might  not  let  you  find  me,  you 
know !  " 

Garth  put  his  arm  round  her  waist  with 
a  masterful  air.  "I  have  you,"  said  he, 
"  and  it  will  be  my  fault  if  I  let  you  go !  " 

He  unlocked  the  door  of  the  studio,  and 
they  went  in.  The  chill  and  disorder  were 
in  unfavorable  contrast  with  the  snug  aspect 
of  things  when  Garth  had  last  entered  the 
room,  and  discovered  Elinor  on  the  sofa. 

"  Oh,  how  cold !  "  was  Madge's  exclama- 
tion. "  No  one  has  been  here  since  we  went 
out  —  that's  evident!"  As  she  spoke  the 
last  words,  she  gave  him  a  covert  look, 
quickly  averted. 

"  Yes,  I  came  up  here  to  lock  the  door 
that  same  night :  and,  by-the-way,"  he 
added,  turning  to  her,  "I  imagined  some 
one  was  here  when  I  came  in.  My  lamp 
had  gone  out — " 

"  You  saw  nothing,  then  ?  " 

"No;  I  only  had  the  feeling  that  I  was 
not  alone.  Afterward  I  heard  a  sound  in 
the  passage,  and  a  noise  like  a  door  shut- 
ting." 

"Dear  me!  what  do  you  suppose  it 
was?" 

"  Nikomis,  no  doubt :  either  she,  or  my 
imagination.  I  didn't  follow  up  the  advent- 
ure, and  had  forgotten  it  till  now." 

"Sha'n't  we  have  a  fire?" 

"Yes;  I  mean  to  burn  whatever  we 
don't  pick  out  for  sale,  beginning  with  the 


246 


GARTH. 


five -thousand -dollar  picture.  Next  year 
we'll  start  fresh,  with  no  relics  of  the  past 
to  drag  with  us.  Sit  down  there,  and  see 
whether  my  paintings  can't  make  you  warm 
and  comfortable  for  at  least  an  hour." 

Madge  crouched  down  beside  the  stove 
as  he  bade  her,  and  Garth  tore  the  strips  of 
canvas  off  the  frame,  and  Avith  them  and 
some  billets  of  wood  soon  created  a  fine 
blaze,  quite  sufficient  to  keep  his  beautiful 
companion's  fingers  from  getting  cold.  Then 
he  collected  together  all  the  sketches  and 
studies  in  the  room,  piled  them  on  the  sofa, 
and  began  making  his  selections,  appealing 
from  time  to  time  to  Madge  for  her  opinion 
upon  a  doubtful  specimen.  The  condemned 
ones  he  passed  over  to  her,  and  she  put  them 
in  the  stove,  for  the  most  part  without  look- 
ing at  them,  and  with  an  air  as  if  her 
thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

At  length,  however,  she  summoned  to- 
gether her  wandering  thoughts,  and  asked 
Garth  to  give  her  a  pile  of  sketches  to  look 
over  and  decide  upon  for  herself.  He  placed 
a  portfolio  full  beside  her,  with  the  permis- 
sion to  burn  them  all  if  she  liked,  and  then 
returned  to  the  sofa. 

She  took  up  a  handful  of  them,  listlessly 
looked  them  over,  and  fed  one  after  another 
of  them  into  the  red-hot  little  maw,  that 
always  roared  the  more  insatiably  the  more 
it  was  filled.  These  gone,  she  gathered  up 
a  second  supply.  The  first  drawing  that 
met  her  eye  was  a  study  of  the  steel  head- 
piece which  Captain  Neil  Urmson  had  once 
worn,  and  which  had  been  reproduced  in 
the  picture ;  this  was  allowed  to  add  its 
quota  to  the  now  genial  warmth  of  the 
studio.  The  second  scrap  represented 
Madge's  own  cottage  on  the  verge  of  the 
forest,  with  a  glimpse  of  the  village  beyond. 
After  a  minute's  hesitation,  she  gave  this  to 
the  flames  also.  The  third  sketch  caused 
her  to  concentrate  her  gaze  into  sudden  in- 
tensity, and  to  set  her  teeth  against  her  lip. 
After  the  first  look  she  glanced  round  at 
Garth,  to  see  whether  he  were  watching 
her ;  but  he  seemed  absorbed  in  some  dis- 
covery of  his  own.  She  returned  to  the 
sketch,  which  she  scrutinized  long  and  curi- 
ously. Considered  as  a  work  of  art,  it  hard- 
ly merited  such  attention  ;  it  was  merely  a 


rough  and  hasty  rendering  of  a  woman's 
head,  and  neither  the  features  nor  the  color- 
ing were  such  as  Madge  considered  beauti- 
ful. Nevertheless,  she  must  have  been  im- 
pressed, for  her  own  expression  underwent 
a  marked  change  during  the  short  time  she 
was  examining  the  portrait.  In  the  lower 
left-hand  corner  Avas  a  date — 1845 — and  the 
name  "  Dresden."  It  had  then  been  painted 
some  years  ago,  while  Garth  was  abroad: 
he  had  never  shown  it  to  her,  nor  ever  said 
anything  to  lead  her  to  suppose  that  such  a 
thing  could  have  existed.  Why  had  he  kept 
such  a  secret  ? 

The  incident  was,  in  itself,  as  unimpor- 
tant as  it  could  well  be  ;  but  circumstances, 
inward  and  outward,  gave  it  no  little  weight 
to  Madge's  mind.  She  put  herself  in  Garth's 
place,  with  a  result  not  entirely  creditable 
to  him ;  for  it  is  not  always  charitable  to 
judge  others'  motives  by  our  own.  The 
effect  upon  Madge  in  the  present  instance 
was  to  make  her  conclusions  cynical.  But, 
since  she  was  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  her 
thoughts  frank  and  immediate  expression, 
and  since,  moreover,  it  may  have  better 
suited  her  convenience  to  be  cynical  than 
explicit,  she  kept  silence  upon  her  dis- 
covery. 

"  Madge  !  "  said  Garth. 

She  slipped  the  portrait  into  her  pocket, 
and  said,  without  looking  round — 

"  What  ? " 

"  Do  you  remember,  the  last  time  we 
were  up  here,  giving  me  some  brandy  ?  " 

"  Oh — when  you  fainted  away  ?    Yes." 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  ? " 

"  It  was  Nikomis's,  I  believe.  I  got  it 
from  her  room." 

"  This  flask  isn't  hers,  is  it  ? "  He  held 
up  a  silver  flask  mounted  in  Eussia  leather, 
and  handsomely  chased.  "  I  found  it  under 
the  sofa,"  he  added.  "  It  has  the  English 
mark  upon  it ;  and  a  date  and  initials  be- 
sides." 

"  Let  me  look  at  it,"  said  Madge,  getting 
up  and  coming  to  the  sofa.  She  took  the 
flask  and  examined  it ;  on  the  bottom  had 
been  scratched  the  letters  "  S.  K.,"  and 
the  date  1845.  A  few  moments'  reflection 
showed  her  that  to  prevaricate  in  this  mat- 
ter would  be  more  perilous  than  to  confess. 


CHRISTMAS  PROSPECTS. 


247 


She  had  anticipated  the  finding  of  the  flask, 
but  had  not  been  aware  of  the  existence  of 
the  initials  and  date,  which  made  all  the 
difference.  It  was  a  situation  in  which 
presence  of  mind  was  worth  more  than  any- 
thing else,  and  presence  of  mind  was  a  vir- 
tue which  Madge  had  always  cultivated.  In 
a  wonderfully  short  space  of  time,  there- 
fore, she  took  her  decision,  and  the  sequel 
evidenced  its  soundness. 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know,  Garth,"  she 
said,  returning  his  inquiring  glance  with 
perfect  frankness.  "  Perhaps  I  should  have 
told  you  before,  but  I  did  what  I  thought 
was  for  the  best :  and,  at  any  rate,  I'm  glad 
not  to  have  the  secret  to  keep  any  longer. 
Sit  down  here  and  listen." 

The  conference  lasted  for  an  hour  or 
two.  At  the  end  of  it  Garth  said  : 

"  I'll  write  to  Professor  Grindle  to-night. 
You  could  not  have  done  more  kindly  or 
wisely  than  you  did." 

His  look  and  tone  caressed  her  with  a 
tenderness  so  deep  and  masculine  as  well- 
nigh  to  impel  her  to  the  utterance  of  those 
few  further  words  which  would  have  left 
nothing  to  be  said.  But  she  remembered 
that  little  sketch  of  a  woman's  head— and 
turned  away  unconfessed. 


CHAPTEPv  LXXI. 

CHRISTMAS    PEOSPECT3. 

WHEX  Christmas  was  still  three  days  dis- 
tant, there  was  again  a  gathering  around 
the  broad  kitchen-hearth  of  Urmhurst.  Mr. 
Urmson  was  able,  for  the  first  time  in  three 
weeks,  to  leave  his  room  and  join  the  group ; 
he  sat  in  the  centre,  the  high,  dark  back  of 
his  chair  rising  above  his  clear,  pale  face, 
which  seemed  to  grow  more  transparent  and 
spiritual-looking  day  by  day.  But  the  bright- 
ness of  his  eyes,  and  the  indomitable  cheer- 
fulness of  his  bearing,  whenever  he  let  him- 
self be  seen  at  all,  did  much  to  counteract 
the  effect  of  his  bodily  frailty.  People  are 
mostly  taken  at  their  own  estimation,  espe- 
cially if  it  be  such  as  to  let  us  off  easily  on 
the  score  of  sympathy. 

Elinor  sat  beside  him;   then  came  Go- 


lightley,  Mrs.  Tenterden,  and  Parson  Graeme. 
The  two  latter  had  lately  contracted  a  genial 
partnership  with  each  other,  the  chief  aim 
of  which  was  to  discuss  the  people  and  the 
events  of  years  long  gone  by.  The  parson, 
whose  memory  of  the  past  seemed  to  gain 
in  clearness  in  proportion  as  his  notions  of 
the  present,  grew  confused,  executed  really 
portentous  feats  of  historic  reminiscence ; 
while  Mrs.  Tenterden  came  in  with  a  flow- 
ing embroidery  of  minute  and  detailed  in- 
formation, such  as  only  a  lady  of  much 
leisure  and  natural  curiosity  could  ever  hope 
to  get  together. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  fireplace  sat 
Madge  and  Garth,  both  somewhat  taciturn. 
In  fact,  as  Mrs.  Tenterden  was  just  observ- 
ing, the  young  people,  who  had  every  rea- 
son to  be  chatty  and  lively,  were  sedate  and 
laconic  as  a  Quaker  meeting;  and  thereby, 
she  supposed,  designed  to  bring  upon  her- 
self and  others  the  reproach  of  senile  garru- 
lity. "  However,  daughter,1'  she  added,  "I've 
got  something  to  tell  you  that  I  reckon  will 
set  the  tongues  of  all  of  you  a-going.  I  sup- 
pose I  oughtn't  to  tell  now,  though,  because 
it's  for  Christmas — there !  well,  since  that's 
slipped  out,  I  might  as  well  say  the  rest. 
It's  what  Christmas-present  I  mean  to  give 
you.  Or  maybe  I'll  let  you  all  guess !  — 
that'll  be  best  of  all !  "  and  the  good  lady 
chuckled  comfortably  and  folded  her  statu- 
esque arms. 

But  never,  apparently,  had  so  poor  an 
assemblage  of  guessers  got  together  round  a 
New  England  hearth  as  this.  No  one  had 
the  enterprise  to  hazard  a  failure,  except  the 
parson,  who  instantly  proclaimed  the  answer 
to  be  a  wedding-garment !  and  thereupon 
exploded  into  stentorian  mirth. 

"Well,  you're  nearer  to  it  than  the 
others,  parson,"  said  Mrs.  Tenterden  indul- 
gently, as  soon  as  she  could  make  her  voice 
heard. — "  I  never  saw  such  a  stupid  set  as 
they  are  all  to-night. — Well,  then,  Nellie, 
I'm  going  to  give  you  whatever  money  is 
got  back  from  our  robbers,  whenever  they're 
caught !  You'd  have  had  it  for  a  wedding- 
present,  if  you'd  been  married  before  Christ- 
mas, and  the  money  had  been  got  in  time ; 
and  maybe  I'd  better  call  it  a  dowry,  any- 
way ;  only,  as  life  is  so  uncertain,  I  thought 


GAETH. 


I'd  speak  of  it  now,  so  as  you  might  know 
in  case  anything  happened." 

Several  members  of  the  company  ap- 
peared to  consider  all  this  more  impressive 
than  amusing;  but  Elinor  answered,  with 
heightened  color : 

"Thank  you,  mother;  but  I  shouldn't 
have  minded  waiting,  though  life  is  so  un- 
certain. A  Barmecide  fortune  is  as  good 
one  time  as  another.  However,  if  any  one 
pays  me  the  money  before  Christmas,  I'll 
consider  I  have  the  right  to  spend  it  imme- 
diately, without  referring  to  you." 

"What  a  pity  the  robbers,  or  one  of 
them,  couldn't  have  heard  you,  Aunt  Mil- 
dred !  "  remarked  Madge.  "  I'm  sure  he'd 
have  gone  straight  off  and  brought  you  the 
money." 

"  My  good  fathers,  Margaret !  "  cried 
Aunt  Mildred,  glancing  over  her  shoulder 
with  a  shudder,  "  why,  I'd  rather  never  have 
the  money  than  have  the  awful  creature 
himself  bring  it  here !  " 

"  Even  robbers  —  especially  repentant 
robbers  —  are  a  kind  of  men,"  said  Cuth- 
bert. 

'•  If  one  of  them  could  have  heard  you 
say  that,  my  dear  brother,  he'd  have  thanked 
you  !  "  was  Golightley's  observation. 

"  Since  Aunt  Mildred  has  been  so  munifi- 
cent," said  Cnthbert  again,  "  I  may  as  well 
inform  you,  Garth,  that  Eve's  legacy  belongs 
to  you  in  default  of  the  other  claimant ;  so 
unless  he  puts  in  an  appearance  some  day  or 
other,  you  will  be  pretty  well  off !  " 

Madge  laughed.  "  If  we  could  only  man- 
age to  prove  that  the  claimant  was  one  of 
the  robbers,"  said  she,  "  he  could  be  shut 
up  in  prison,  and  then  both  Garth  and  Eli- 
nor would  have  their  fortunes  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  should  care  for  the 
claimant's  money  any  more,  because  he  hap- 
pened to  be  a  convict,"  said  Garth.  "  But 
talking  about  Christmas-presents,  I  have  one 
to  propose  which  we  may  all  give  ourselves 
— a  skating-party  on  the  lake  on  Christinas- 
eve.  It  shall  be  a  great  affair ;  all  the  vil- 
lage, besides  ourselves,  shall  be  there,  and 
we'll  build  the  biggest  bonfire  that  ever  was 
seen.  The  moon  is  full  on  that  night ;  and, 
if  the  ice  is  good,  we  ought  to  have  a  better 
picnic  than  any  of  the  parson's." 


This  suggestion  met  with  general  ap- 
proval. 

"As  to  that  about  the  ice,  though,"  said 
Golightley,  leaning  forward  and  caressing 
his  mustache,  "is  there  reason  to  suppose 
that  it  is  what  it  should  be  in  view  of  such 
an  occasion?  Anybody  been  down  there 
lately?" 

"  This  snow  fell  before  the  lake  froze," 
replied  Garth.  "But  we  can  go  and  find 
out." 

"  Happy  thought,  by  George ! "  exclaimed 
the  other.  He  sprang  up  and  went  to  the 
window.  "  Ah !  what  a  superb  night.  Now 
what  do  you  say  to  some  of  us  wrapping  up 
warm  and  going  down  to-night?  Just  look 
at  that  moon !  " 

"Mercy,  Golightley,  you'd  all  catch  your 
death !  "  cried  Mrs.  Tenterden. 

But  some  of  the  others  favored  the  idea ; 
and  finally  the  four  lovers,  as  the  good  lady 
called  them,  made  up  their  minds  to  start. 
While  Madge  and  Elinor  were  putting  on 
their  wraps,  Garth  went  out  and  harnessed 
the  double  sleigh,  and  filled  it  with  buffalo- 
robes,  blankets,  and  hot  bricks.  Then  the 
party  got  in,  and  they  drove  off  with  much 
noise  and  festivity.  The  moon,  shining  on 
the  snow,  made  the  woods  light  as  day;  and 
the  road  had  been  worn  by  the  sledges  of 
the  wood-cutters  sufficiently  to  render  the 
sleighing  good.  They  reached  the  lake  with- 
out accident;  and  when  Garth  had  tested 
the  ice  and  found  it  safe,  they  drove  forth 
upon  it  toward  the  little  islet  at  the  mouth 
of  the  cove. 

"  By  George — black  ice,  too !  That  beats 
my  experience — eh,  Garth  ? "  said  Golightley. 
"  It's  like  driving  on  air.  You  might  see  the 
stones  on  the  bottom." 

"  How  thick  is  the  ice  ? "  inquired  Elinor. 

"  About  nine  inches." 

"Where  is  tlie  bonfire  to  be?''  asked 
Madge. 

"  On  the  nose  of  the  island,"  Garth  re- 
plied, "so  that  it  can  be  seen  all  over  the 
broad  part  of  the  lake.  If  it  were  in  view 
of  the  meadows,  it  would  be  hidden  from 
the  place  where  most  of  the  people  will  be. 
I  believe  there's  a  shed  on  the  island  which 
was  used  by  the  ice-cutters  last  year.  We 
can  stable  the  horses  in  that ;  and  by  clear- 


CHRISTMAS   PROSPECTS. 


ing  away  the  snow  a  little,  we  can  cook  and 
eat  our  dinner  in  the  midst  of  warmth  and 
comfort." 

'•  How  is  it  about  fish  ?  "  asked  Golight- 
ley. "  Any  chance  for  a  chowder?  " 

"Nothing  easier.  The  lake  is  full  of 
trout  and  perch;  the  women  shall  catch 
them  through  the  ice,  and  I'll  cook  them." 

"It's  a  paradise  on  ice!  "  Golightley  de- 
clared. 

They  came  to  the  islet,  and  passing  round 
the  promontory,  the  panorama  of  valley, 
lake,  and  river,  lay  before  them.  The  river 
was  dammed  lower  down,  and  had  over- 
flowed its  banks  to  an  average  breadth  of 
half  a  mile ;  and  this  polished  pathway,  like 
a  black  mirror  twenty  miles  long,  glistened 
lonely  and  silent  in  its  white  setting  of  snow, 
farther  than  the  eye  could  trace  it.  But 
farther  still,  Wabeno  showed  his  dim  out- 
line against  the  sky,  like  the  ghost  of  some 
traditionary  mountain,  the  material  sub- 
stance of  which  had  long  passed  away. 

"I  wished  I'd  brought  my  skates!" 
Madge  exclaimed.  "  The  ice  is  perfect  now. 
Day  after  to-morrow  may  not  be  so  fine  as 
to-day." 

"  Can  you  skate,  Elinor  ?  "  asked  Garth. 

"  Hardly  at  all ;  but  it  seems  as  if  I  could 
do  anything  to-night !  " 

"  And  I — since  nobody  will  have  the 
good  manners  to  toot  my  horn  for  me — I 
am  the  fortunate  purveyor  of  all  this  delec- 
tation," remarked  Golightley.  "Remember 
it  in  my  favor,  friends,  if  ever  you  should 
have  occasion  to  think  ill  of  me." 

"  One  cannot  be  expected  to  carry  a  De- 
cember night  about  in  one's  mind  quite  all 
the  time,  Uncle  Golightley,"  returned  Madge, 
maliciously. — "  But  I'm  sure  you  must  know 
how  to  skate,  Elinor ;  at  all  events,  you  have 
a  lovely  skating-suit,  and  I  have  been  all  the 
last  week  making  one  to  look  exactly  like  it." 

"  Aha !  so  that  you  may  be  mistaken  for 
one  another,  and  one  of  you,  perhaps,  escape 
to  parts  unknown,  while  her  accomplice  in 
the  plot  delays  pursuit  until  it  be  too  late ! 
I  scent  mischief,"  laughed  Golightley. — "And 
by-the-by,  Garth,  d  propos  of  mischief,  what 
has  become  of  your  friend  Jack  Selwyn  ?  Is 
his  business  so  pressing  that  he  can't  post- 
pone it  for  a  treat  like  this  ? " 


"There  he  goes,  now!"  cried  Madge, 
suddenly. 

They  all  looked  where  she  pointed,  and 
saw  a  figure,  faint  and  far  away  in  the  moon- 
light, skimming  across  the  meadow-ice  half 
a  mile  below.  In  a  minute  or  two  the  figure 
gained  the  shadow  of  a  clump  of  pines  on 
the  right,  and  was  lost  to  view,  only  the  low 
reverberation  of  the  ice  bearing  testimony 
to  the  reality  of  the  vision. 

"  It  might  have  been  he ;  he's  mysterious 
in  his  movements,"  said  Garth.  "But  I 
don't  know  his  address.  Professor  Grindle, 
though,  sent  me  word  this  morning  that  he 
should  try  to  spend  Christmas-day  with  us. 
He  may  get  down  in  time  to  join  us  here." 

They  sat  silent  for  a  while,  looking  at  the 
scene.  "  Ah,  it  seems  a  shame  ever  to  leave 
this,"  murmured  Golightley  at  last.  "  Why 
can't  we  be  changed  into  moon-elves,  and 
dance  here  all  night  long  ?  Who  knows  when 
we  shall  be  so  well-tuned  again?  I  declare, 
I  believe  I'd  walk  home  if  I  thought  I  could 
get  anybody  to  go  with  me !  " 

He  glanced  at  Elinor  as  he  spoke;  but 
she  made  him  no  answer.  "  It  seems  a  pity 
to  lose  this  so  soon,"  repeated  he. 

"  Bat  we  must,"  said  Garth,  "  since  we're 
sensible  people,  and  not  moon -elves,  or  even 
lunatics ! "  He  turned  his  horse  with  the 
words,  but  the  animal  slipped,  and,  in  re- 
covering itself,  struck  the  forward  sleigh- 
runner  with  its  hoof,  and  snapped  it. 

"That  horse  has  a  soul,"  said  Golightley, 
when  the  nature  of  the  accident  was  known. 
"He  heard  me  mention  walking  home,  so 
he  just  put  down  his  foot  and  said,  'You 
shall  do  it ! '  " 

"  One  of  us  can  still  ride,"  observed 
Garth. 

"Why  not  two  of  us?"  said  Madge. — 
"  Have  you  got  your  spurs  on,  Uncle  Go- 
lightley ? " 

"No,  no!  I  wouldn't  ride  an  animal 
that  has  shown  himself  such  a  Christian  as 
Dobbin !  You  three  must  fight  it  out  be- 
tween you." 

"  I  shall  walk,"  said  Elinor. 

"  All  right,"  said  Garth,  after  a  pause. — 
"  Madge,  you  and  I  will  ride.  It  won't  be 
the  first  time  we  have  been  on  a  horse  to- 
gether." 


250 


GARTH. 


He  slipped  the  horse  out  of  the  shafts, 
and  drew  the  disabled  sleigh  under  the  shed 
on  the  islet.  Then  they  all  walked  across 
the  ice  to  the  mainland,  Garth  leading  the 
steed.  Arrived  there,  he  mounted,  and  Madge, 
taking  his  hand,  rested  her  foot  on  his,  and 
sprang  up  behind  him;  then  clasped  her 
arms  round  his  waist,  and  they  galloped 
away  through  the  glimmering  forest.  It 
needed  only  the  parson  and  the  shining  ar- 
mor to  render  the  parallel  to  their  childish 
exploit  complete. 


CHAPTEP*  LXXII. 

CONFESSION. 

ELINOR  took  her  companion's  arm,  and 
for  a  while  they  walked  on  in  silence ;  for 
Golightley  was  not  so  imperturbable  a  wooer 
as  he  had  once  been,  and  his  audacity  seemed 
even  less  when  he  and  his  mistress  were 
alone  together  than  in  company.  This  sub- 
dued bearing  of  his  had  been  very  grateful 
to  Elinor;  yet  it  was  of  a  kind  rather  to 
lead  her  to  suspect  him  of  an  increase  of 
affection  toward  her  than  the  contrary.  For, 
though  never  obtruding  himself  upon  her, 
or  attempting  anything  in  the  way  of  per- 
sonal magnetism,  as  he  had  not  spared  to  do 
in  the  earlier  stages  of  their  acquaintance, 
lie  now  had  a  way  of  silently  watching  her 
when  he  fancied  her  unaware  of  his  obser- 
vation ;  of  divining  and  fulfilling  her  wishes 
while  they  were  yet  in  the  germ,  and  of  re- 
ceiving her  words  with  an  undemonstrative 
reverence,  that  was  flattering  because  evi- 
dently sincere.  Nay,  he  was  even  a  trifle 
too  subservient  for  her  taste,  for  she  was 
not  one  of  those  natures  that  feel  it  delight- 
ful to  condescend ;  and  often  she  found  her- 
self trying  to  force  him  into  a  manlier  and 
more  independent  attitude  toward  her  than 
he  was  himself  inclined  to  assume.  She  was 
doing  her  best  to  like  him,  by  dint  of  reso- 
lutely shutting  her  eyes  to  whatever  might 
tend  to  reflect  discredit  on  him,  and  by 
magnifying  and  dwelling  upon  everything 
that  made  in  his  favor.  Such  honest  effort 
on  her  part  would  scarcely  fail,  in  time,  to 
attain  something  like  success.  She  was  ever 
ready  to  defend  him  against  detraction ;  and 


when,  unwittingly,  he  had  spoken  or  acted 
in  contradiction  to  what  she  considered  his 
better  phase,  she  hesitated  not  to  take  his 
part  against  himself  as  well. 

At  length  he  broke  silence  by  saying, 
with  some  signs  of  nervousness  in  his  voice 
and  laugh,  "  By-the-by,  what  an  odd  idea 
was  that  of  Mildred's  about  your  dowry, 
wasn't  it? — the  Barmecide  dowry — ha,  ha!  " 

"  It  may  turn  out  a  reality/' 

"  So  it  may,  Elinor — so  it  may !  Stranger 
things  have  happened.  "What  should  you 
say,  now — but  this  is  only  one  of  my  eccen- 
tric fancies,  you  know,  such  as  I'm  famous 
for — what  should  you  say,  now,  if  some 
strange  chance  were  to  bring  you  that  dow- 
ry, and  at  the  same  time  were  to — ha,  ha ! — 
were  to — " 

"  Were  to  what  ?  " 

"  Well,  say,  were  to  leave  me  a  beggar !  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well,  let's  put  it  this  way.  What  if  I 
were  a  beggar  now — by  my  own  voluntary 
act — and  you  were  the  possessor  of  eighty 
thousand  pounds  ? " 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  understand  you — 
unless  you  mean  that  you  think  of  settling 
your  fortune  on  me  when  you  marry,  which 
I  should  not  like  at  all.  But  I  forget — you 
were  only  joking !  " 

"Ah,  my  dear  Elinor,  there's  many  a 
true  word  spoken  in  jest!  And  supposing  I 
were  to  do — or  had  already  done — such  a 
thing  as  you  mentioned,  don't  you  see  how 
it  might  rather  be  an  act  of  justice — of  con- 
science— " 

"  Don't  let  us  waste  this  beautiful  winter 
moonlight  by  supposing  anything  foolish," 
interrupted  Elinor,  with  something  of  ap- 
prehension underlying  the  brusqueness  of 
her  tone.  "  There's  something  I  want  to 
ask  you.  You  have  never  told  me  where 
you  were  going  to  take  me  after  we  are 
married !  " 

"I  sha'n't  have  the  right  to  direct  our 
movements,  my  dear  Elinor.  I  shall  be  your 
dependent,  living  on  your  bounty — " 

"Now,  you  must  attend  to  my  ques- 
tions !  "  she  interrupted  once  more,  with  an 
affectation  of  playful  rebuke.  "  I  was  think- 
ing, if  you  liked  Europe  better,  I  should 
prefer  it  on  some  accounts,  too.  We  could 


CONFESSION. 


251 


come  back  afterward,  you  know,  if  we  found 
it  didn't  suit  us.    Don't  you  think  so? " 

"Elinor,  I —  By  George,  I  love  you 
too  well !  If  I  cared  for  you  now  only  as  I 
did  at  first,  I  might — it  might  be  better  for 
both  of  us !  If  you  could  believe  how  I  re- 
pent— if  I  could  feel  that  you  forgave  me — 
there's  nothing  else  I  should  mind !  " 

"  Is  it  such  a  crime  to  love  me  ? "  said 
Elinor,  laughing  sharply,  and  turning  her 
eyes  away  from  the  spectacle  of  his  mani- 
fest agitation.  "I  don't  know  what  you 
are  talking  about,  I'm  sure.  I  wish  you 
would  answer  my  questions  about  Europe. 
Don't  you  think  mother  would  like  it  bet- 
ter ?  " 

"  My  God !  don't  make  it  so  hard  for  a 
poor  devil.  You'll  never  forgive  me,  and 
that's  why  you  won't  listen  to  me !  It's  my 
only  chance — if  I  don't  tell  you  now,  it  will 
be  too  late,  and  you'll  think  even  worse  of 
me  than  I  deserve.  I  have  repented — by 
George,  I  have ! — and  made  what  restitution 
I  could—" 

"  Wait  a  moment — stop !  "  She  clung  to 
his  arm  and  pressed  her  forehead  against  his 
shoulder.  She  was  tense  and  quivering  with 
excitement;  he  was  relaxed  and  tremulous. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  steadied  herself  by 
main  force.  "  Now  will  you  come  home 
quietly?"  she  asked.  "Remember,"  she 
added,  beseechingly,  "  we  are  going  to  be 
married!  I  have  not  asked  to  have  any- 
thing told  me.  But  if  anything  were  said, 
it  could  never  be  unsaid  ....  I  will  walk 
home  alone  if  you  please !  I  think  you  must 
have  been — drinking!  " 

It  was  an  appeal — a  final,  desperate  ex- 
pedient for  remaining  deaf  and  dumb. 
But,  intense  as  was  her  will  not  to  hear,  Go- 
Ughtley  was  by  this  time  too  much  un- 
manned to  be  restrained.  What  was  in  him 
to  say,  must  out !  and  when  Elinor  heard  his 
nervous  laugh  at  her  impugnment  of  his  so- 
briety, she  felt  the  vainness  of  further  strug- 
gle. She  quitted  his  arm  abruptly,  and 
moved  onward,  haughty  and  cold. 

"  If  I  could  get  you  to  realize  what  my 
life  has  been — how  one  phase  has  developed 
into  another,  without  my  seeming  able  to 
control  it!  "  said  Golightley,  walking  beside 
her  in  his  wretchedness.  "It  has  seemed, 


by  George !  as  if  destiny  was  always  against 
me.  I've  always  meant  well — I  can  say  that ! 
But  it  has  really  seemed  as  if  my  very  gifts 
— my  peculiar  fineness  of  perception,  and  all 
that — had  helped  lead  me  wrong.  If  I'd 
been  formed  of  such  clay  as  other  men,  I 
should  have  done  well  enough  !  " 

"Do  not  speak  as  if  I  knew  anything," 
said  Elinor,  with  an  almost  labored  distinct- 
ness of  enunciation.  "  I  know  nothing.  Say 
what  is  the  matter  in  as  few  words  as  you 
can,  since  you  have  begun.  Remember — I 
would  not  have  listened  to  it  from  anybody 
else!" 

But  it  was  hard  for  him  to  speak  plainly 
and  succinctly,  now  that  it  had  come  to  the 
point.  The  crookedness  of  a  lifetime  made 
itself  felt.  He  could  not  help  hesitating  and 
temporizing  on  the  verge  of  his  gulf,  though 
longing  to  plunge  headlong. 

"  Ah — yon  know  what  a  gift  I  have  for 
finance?  of  course,  everybody  knows  that. 
But  it  was  a  gift  with  a  curse  on  it,  like  the 
others ;  I  could  make  anybody's  fortune  but 
my  own.  Well,  then — where  was  I?  Oh, 
when  I  got  acquainted  with  poor,  dear  John 
and  all  of  you — you  know  how  highly  he 
thought  of  me,  Elinor,  how  thoroughly  he 
believed  in  me  ?  And  the  good  he  saw  in  me 
may  have  been  there,  you  know,  though 
with  evil  mixed  with  it,  of  course.  Well,  I 
wouldn't  take  charge  of  the  money — the 
investments  and  all  that — though  dear  old 
John  besought  me  to  do  it,  time  and  again  ; 
and  though  I  knew,  too,  that  the  property 
being  actually  Mildred's,  and  she  my  sis- 
ter—" 

"I  know  all  this;  I  think  you  did  quite 
rightly  and  prudently  not  to  interfere.  Is 
that  all  you  had  to  tell  me? " 

"  It  was  just  so  that  you  might  see  things 
from  my  point  of  view.  The  way  I  looked 
at  it  was,  that  even  if  I  had  taken  the  man- 
agement, and  the  property,  by  some — some 
accident  or  other,  you  know,  had  passed  into 
my  own  possession,  still  it  would  have  been 
in  the  family  all  the  same,  and  none  of  you 
would  really  have  lost  anything — in  fact, 
you  would  have  been  the  gainers,  since  I 
could  place  the  investments  where  they'd 
realize  a  fourth  as  much  again  as  under  poor 
dear  John's  management." 


252 


GARTH. 


"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  anything 
of  this  sort  happened  ?  "  demanded  Elinor, 
slowly. 

"Ah  —  that  was  the  principle  of  the 
tiling,  as  the  moralists  say ;  and  if  you  only 
eliminate  the  accident — it  wasn't  strictly  ac- 
cidental— " 

Elinor  stopped  and  faced  him,  though 
her  eyes  were  downcast.  She  spoke  Avith 
manifest  pain  and  effort.  "Did  you — steal 
— the  money  ? " 

He  glanced  up  at  her  with  a  blanched, 
wretched  look,  his  hand  feeling  about  the 
sidelocks  of  his  hair,  and  wandering  down 
over  his  beard. 

"  It  seems  a  terrible  thing  to  put  it  that 
way!"  muttered  he.  "But,  frankly,  I've 
never  had  a  moment's  peace  of  mind  since 
then.  But  I  haven't  explained  to  you  the — 
ha,  ha!— what  the  lawyers  call  the  extenu- 
ating circumstances.  There  were  extenuat- 
ing circumstances,  Elinor— by  George,  there 
were !  It  was  that  scoundrel  Flint,  or  Kin- 
eo,  or  whatever  his  name  is,  that  got  me  in- 
to it  I  " 

"  Yon  stole  your  friend's  money  —  he 
loved  and  trusted  you  so !  What  must  I  be- 
lieve next  ?  Ah,  dear  me !  "  She  still  spoke 
with  painful,  lagging  utterance,  and  the  last 
words  were  a  heavy  sigh.  Then,  though 
with  almost  unconquerable  repugnance,  she 
raised  her  head  and  compelled  her  eyes  to 
rest  on  him.  Such  a  look,  it  was  more 
agony  for  her  to  give  than  for  him  to  sus- 
tain. For  he  had  not  appreciated  the  full 
ugliness  of  the  crime  he  had  committed.  He 
saw  in  it  an  offense  against  morals,  against 
good  taste,  and,  worse  still,  against  respecta- 
bility; he  was  miserable  at  the  loss  of  his 
prestige  in  the  eyes  of  Elinor  and  of  the 
world;  and  he  was  poignantly  affected  by 
the  shame  involved  in  the  process  of  confes- 
sion. But  if  everything  had  turned  out 
comfortably,  if  his  guilt  had  never  been 
brought  to  light,  and  he  had  been  able  to 
enact  the  part  of  benefactor  and  philanthro- 
pist with  the  proceeds  of  his  roguery,  it  may 
be  open  to  question  whether  either  his  heart 
or  his  conscience  would  have  beeen  dis- 
turbed. At  all  events,  it  had  never  occurred 
to  him  that  the  knowledge  of  his  degrada- 
tion might  cause  Elinor  deeper  shame  and 


suffering  than  he  himself  was  capable  of 
feeling. 

"I  had  expected,"  said  he,  at  last—  "I  had 
expected  you'd  at  least  have  given  me  credit 
for  speaking  out  before  we  were  married. 
If  you  knew  what  my  love  for  you  has  grown 
to  be,  lately,  you  would  give  me  some  credit. 
I  didn't  know,  frankly,  what  my  capacities 
for  love  were  until  within  the  last  month ; 
and  yet  I  risk  the  loss  of  you — by  George !  " 

Elinor  began  to  kindle  with  indignation ; 
the  man  had  absolutely  no  thought  but  for 
j  himself.  "What  credit  do  you  expect?" 
I  she  asked.  "You  were  a  coward  to  tell  me 
all  this !  You  should  sooner  have  died  than 
insult  me  with  the  confession  of  your  de- 
formity !  If  you  had  been  faithful  even  to 
evil,  I  might  have  had  a  kind  of  respect  for 
you!  But  there  is  no  manliness  in  you! 
You  confessed  only  when  you  knew  you 
must  be  found  out  at  any  rate.  It  was  das- 
tardly and  insulting !  You  were  afraid  I 
should  listen  to  gossip  against  you — you 
thought  I  was  as  treacherous  as  yourself ! 
But  you  have  thrown  away  the  only  trust 
that  any  one  will  ever  have  in  you.  I  would 
have  believed  no  evidence  but  your  own !  " 

"Destiny  is  against  me,  or  this  would  be 
none  of  I!  "  said  Golightky,  with  an  hysteric 
sort  of  bravado. 

"I  ought  to  thank  you,  though,"  Elinor 
continued,  not  heeding  him  in  her  passionate 
preoccupation.  "At  least,  I  can  believe 
myself,  now !  I  was  right  in  detesting  you 
when  I  first  saw  you.  You  are  as  contempt- 
ible as  you  look — that  is  my  comfort!  I 
am  glad  you  are  a  criminal — I  am  glad !  " 

"  O  Elinor,  can't  you  care  for  me  a  little 
still?" 

She  turned  upon  him  with  that  strange, 
uneven  glance  of  hers,  which  was  yet  so 
direct  and  disconcerting,  and  with  a  smile 
on  her  lips  that  made  Golightley  feel  his 
degradation  as  no  frown  could  have  done. 

"That  is  not  reasonable.  You  are  not 
lovable.  How  can  I  care  for  a  man  who 
has  spoilt  my  life,  and  deceived  me  into  be- 
lieving evil  good,  and  good  evil?  I  know 
why  you  asked  me  in  marriage.  After  you 
had  stolen  your  friend's  money,  you  thought 
you  would  steal  me  for  your  wife,  so  that  you 
might  say,  '  No  such  great  harm  was  done, 


CONFESSION. 


253 


after  all ! '  I  have  no  very  high  opinion  of 
iiiyself,  but  I  will  not  be  the  balm  of  your 
evil  conscience ! " 

"It  isn't  merely  to  make  me  happy,  you 
know,"  he  said,  twisting  his  hands  together. 
"  It  would  be  saving  a  human  soul.  Only 
you  could  do  it,  Elinor ;  and  I'm  not  too  far 
gone  to  be  saved  1 " 

The  expression  of  sarcasm  passed  from 
Elinor's  face  and  voice,  and  sadness  took  its 
place.  "  I  have  a  soul,  too ! "  said  she. 
"  You  have  taken  away  the  freshness  from 
it  already.  If  we  had  been  married,  it  would 
have  lost  whatever  else  in  it  is  worth  pre- 
serving. Loving  me  cannot  save  you,  nor 
my  loving  you ;  you  must  love  truth  and 
honor." 

Golightley  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
laughed  his  short,  empty  laugh.  "  Oh,  well, 
so  be  it !  When  it  comes  to  fearing  the  Lord 
and  keeping  his  commandments,  I  may  ac- 
count myself  done  for !  So  be  it.  I'll  dis- 
appear. You  may  think  less'despitefully  of 
me  some  day,  my  dear  Elinor,  when  things 
come  to  be  known  that  are  not  known  now." 

"  Who  will  pity  him  if  I  do  not  ?  "  thought 
Elinor,  compassionately.  But  her  sense  of 
justice  was  too  true  and  keen  to  yield  over- 
much to  the  gentler  sentiment.  Yet  she 
felt  that  the  very  fact  of  having  suffered  in- 
dignity at  his  hands,  had  given  him  a  sort 
of  claim  upon  her.  Providence  had  ordained 
that  their  paths  should  cross;  ought  she  not 
therefore,  so  far  as  might  be  possible,  to  turn 
the  meeting  to  good  ? 

"  I  shall  never  be  what  I  might  have  been 
if  we  had  not  met,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  will 
not  think  despitefully  of  you.  I  will  hope 
and  care  that  you  may  do  well  hereafter,  if 
that  will  be  any  help  to  you." 

"  I  am  a  beggar,  my  dear  Elinor,  too  poor 
even  in  my  deserts  for  respectable  folks  to 
concern  themselves  about  me.  All  I  shall 
ask  of  your  condescension  is  that  you  enjoy 
your  fortune  none  the  less  because  of  the 
evil  hands  it  has  passed  through.  I  antici- 
pated Mildred  in  her  generosity — ha,  ha !  It 
is  all  paid  in  to  your  credit  in  the  Beacon 
Hill  Bank — all  my  share  that  is  to  say.  What 
the — ha! — the  other  scoundrel  had,  is  gone 
past  redemption." 

"  Has  he  proofs  against  you?  " 


"  Oh !  you've  heard  that  ?  He  will  prob- 
ably surrender  them  in  consideration  of  my 
check  for  ten  thousand  pounds." 

"How  can  you  offer  him  that,  if — " 

"  Well,  the  fact  is — though  I  hadn't  meant 
to  trouble  you  with  details— that  the  check 
will  not  be  paid  when  he  presents  it." 

"  You  mean  to  cheat  even  your  accom- 
plice !  "  exclaimed  Elinor,  with  irrepressible 
disgust. 

"  You  can  deliver  me  up  to  the  majesty 
of  the  law,  if  that  will  make  you  any  hap- 
pier. I  deserve  it,  of  course.  But  my  being 
devoured  won't  save  my  friend  the  accom- 
plice." 

"  You  need  not  misunderstand  me  so !  " 
said  Elinor,  blushing  sadly.  "I  wish  no 
harm  either  to  you  or  him.  But  there  shall 
be  no  more  cheating!  You  have  not  yet 
given  him  the  false  check?  " 

"It  still  lacks  my  indorsement.  When 
he  hands  me  my  letters — " 

"  If  they  can  be  got  in  no  other  straight- 
forward way,  he  must  be  honestly  paid  for 
them.  Since  the  money  is  mine  now,  I 
shall  pay  him." 

This  proposal  took  Golightley  by  sur- 
prise, and  changed  his  recklessness  into  an 
emotion  that  brought  tears  to  his  eyes. 
"  My  dear  Elinor — my  dear  Elinor !  "  ex- 
claimed he;  "I — no,  no!  my  safety  is  not 
worth  that  sacrifice." 

"Money  is  not  what  I  most  care  for," 
returned  she,  a  little  coldly.  "  You  asked 
me  to  sacrifice  myself  a  few  minutes  ago. 
I  do  this  on  your  sister's  and  brother's  ac- 
count as  well  as  yours.  They  would  not 
wish  to  have  you — in  prison !  " 

"  If  you  could  have  but  said  it  was  partly 
for  your  sake  too !  But  no — let  it  go !  No 
one  will  care.  I'll  refuse  Flint  the  check, 
and  he  may  keep  the  letters  and  do  his 
worst.  I  have  a  grain  of  pride  somewhere 
about  me,  still,  by  George !  I  won't  accept 
your  noble  and  generous  offer." 

"I  shall  never  be  likely  to  ask  another 
favor  of  you.  You  have  no  right  to  refuse 
me  this." 

"  If  you'd  only  say  it  mattered  a  snap  of 
the  finger  to  you  what  became  of  me!  "  he 
broke  forth,  with  real  passion.  "You  are 
so  cold  to  a  poor  devil  that  loves  you  !  You 


254: 


GARTH. 


make  him  know  he  has  affections,  only  to  ' 
freeze  him  when  he's  at  your  feet.    A  drop 
of  warm  human  charity  would  give  him  life 
to  feel  your  justice  better !  " 

Elinor  began  to  tremble  and  catch  her 
breath.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  be  cold  and  un- 
charitable," she  said,  brokenly.  "  I  am  all 
alone ;  there  is  no  one  to  be  'strong  for  me. 
I  must  defend  myself  in  the  best  way  I  can. 
I  try  to  keep  the  soul  God  gave  me  pure  and 
good.  It  is  because  I  am  so  weak  that  I 
seem  so  hard.  I  would  be  kind,  and  help 
people,  if  I  could." 

Golightley  passed  his  hand  across  his  face 
and  groaned. 

"I  begin  to  feel  all  I've  lost,"  said  he. 
""Be  cold  again,  Elinor;  by  George,  I  can't 
stand  that!" 

"I  may  do  it,  then?  "  she  asked,  quickly 
and  timidly.  "  Where  is  he  ? " 

After  some  pause  and  hesitation,  Golight- 
ley said: 

"  He  can't  be  got  at,  just  now.  Selwyn 
and  his  detectives  are  on  the  lookout  for 
him,  and  he's  obliged  to  keep  dark.  But  I 
was  to  have  met  him  in  about  a  week,  and 
then  it  might  be  arranged." 

There  was  something  so  constrained  in 
his  manner  as  he  made  this  speech,  that 
Elinor  was  not  free  from  misgiving.  "  You 
do  not  promise!  "  she  said. 

"Ah— well,  the  truth  is,  I— ha,  ha!— I 
was  afraid  you  might  not — " 

"I  will  believe  your  promise." 

"Upon  my  soul,  I  thank  you,  Elinor!  " 
He  cleared  his  throat,  and  strove  to  recover 
the  jaunty  air  which  he  sometimes  affected. 
"Be  the  oath  recorded!  Given  life  and 
liberty,  your  commands  shall  be  obeyed! 
Of  course,  if  I  should  turn  up  dead  and 
buried  within  the  next  six  days,  you'd  let 
me  off,  eh? — ha,  ha!  " 

"  I  shall  believe  you,"  she  repeated,  gently. 

They  were  standing  facing  each  other,  a 
few  paces  apart;  and  now  there  was  a  short 
silence.  It  was  broken  by  Golightley. 

"  I  must  stay  hereabouts  till  all's  settled," 
said  he,  clearing  his  throat  again ;  "  but  I 
presume  there'll  be  no  more  tete-d-Ute  for 
us,  so  I'll  say  '  addio '  now.  Good-by,  Eli- 
nor Golightley ;  may  I  have  been  the  only 
pitfall  in  your  path  !  " 


Elinor's  sad  lips  could  utter  no  words ; 
but  she  drew  her  slender  hand  from  her 
muff  and  held  it  toward  him.  He  stepped 
quickly  forward  and  took  it  between  both 
of  his.  But  he  did  not  offer  to  kiss  it. 

In  a  few  moments  he  relinquished  it,  and, 
walking  onward,  left  Elinor  alone.  As  she 
followed  in  the  same  direction,  she  caught 
occasional  glimpses  of  him  at  the  turnings  of 
the  path,  where  he  waited  to  see  that  she 
did  not  lose  her  way.  But  when  the  forest 
became  more  open,  lie  disappeared,  and  she 
reached  home  solitary. 


CHAPTER  LXXIII. 

NEXT   MORNING. 

NEVER  before  had  Elinor  so  greatly  felt 
the  need  of  some  friend  to  whom  she  might 
tell  her  trouble,  and  who  would  sympathize 
with  her  and  counsel  her ;  and  never  had 
she  been  so  isolated.  Mrs.  Tenterden,  Cuth- 
bert,  Garth,  Madge — all  were  alike  impracti- 
cable. "Whether  or  not  any  of  them  kne\v 
or  suspected  the  truth  about  Golightley,  she 
could  not  tell ;  but  she  felt  that  she  must 
wait  unshriven  till  the  end  came,  when  and 
whatever  that  might  be.  Meantime  her 
thoughts  gave  her  no  rest.  The  night  passed 
almost  sleeplessly,  and,  when  at  length  the 
day  confronted  her,  it  came  as  something  to 
be  endured  rather  than  lived  through. 

Though  she  had  never  loved  the  man 
who  had  so  disgracefully  failed  her,  yet  he 
had  occupied  the  lover's  place,  and,  whatever 
gentle  emotions  had  visited  her  heart,  she 
had  felt  in  duty  bound  to  train  toward  him  ; 
striving  with  faithful  desire  to  render  her 
observances  so  generous,  that  in  time  they 
might  become  spontaneous  and  sincere. 
Thus  had  Golightley  represented  something 
real  to  her,  though  himself  a  sham ;  and 
when  he  abruptly  ceased  to  exist  (so  far  as 
her  intents  and  purposes  were  concerned), 
she  was  as  a  vine  robbed  of  its  support, 
which,  though  it  was  perhaps  but  an  infirm 
wooden  post,  had  nevertheless  stood  her  in 
the  stead  of  a  marble  column.  The  delicate 
tendrils  of  her  affections  grasped  instinctive- 
ly after  something  that  might  take  the  place 


NEXT  MORXING. 


255 


of  what  had  been  lost.  It  seems  a  mistake 
to  suppose  that  those  whose  feelings  have 
undergone  rude  treatment  are  less  suscep- 
tible of  fresh  impressions  immediately  than 
long  afterward.  The  forlornness  of  recent 
abandonment  calls  out  for  comfort  more  ur- 
gently than  that  which  time  has  inured  to 
its  condition.  Elinor,  possibly,  had  never 
been  in  a  mood  so  accessible  to  the  influence 
of  a  true  and  ardent  lover  as  when,  on  the 
morning  following  her  rupture  with  Golight- 
ley,  she  walked  out  to  take  the  medicines  of 
air  and  exercise. 

The  road  she  happened  to  follow  led 
toward  the  mill-stream,  and  thence  along  the 
bank  to  the  lake.  After  walking  a  mile  or  so, 
Elinor  came  in  view  of  a  little  hut,  roughly 
constructed  of  unhewed  logs  and  roofed  with 
pine-bark.  Smoke  was  issuing  from  a  prim- 
itive sort  of  chimney  aperture  at  one  end ;  and 
before  the  doorway  a  man  was  standing  with 
a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  Upon  hearing  her 
step  on  the  snow,  he  turned  quickly,  and  im- 
mediately began  to  make  gladsome  gestures 
of  greeting.  As  Elinor  got  nearer,  she  per- 
ceived that  the  man  was  Jack  Selvvyn. 

"Good-morning,  princess!"  exclaimed 
he.  "Permit  me  to  rejoice  that  you  have 
dispensed  with  your  retinue  this  morning. 
You  were  out  in  force  on  the  pond  last  night." 

"How  did  you  know  we  were  there?" 
asked  she,  surprised. 

"  What !  didn't  you  see  the  lonely  skater  ? 
I  recognized  Miss  Madge's  voice,  I'm  sure ; 
and  Garth's.  And  my  intuitive  perceptions 
informed  me  of  your  presence !  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  join  us,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  five  are  almost  as  poor  company  as 
three,  you  know,"  replied  he,  smiling. 

"  Why  do  you  stay  here  ?  We  thought 
you  were  hundreds  of  miles  away." 

"  I've  only  been  here  a  day  or  two.  Will 
you  come  in  and  take  a  look  at  my  winter 
palace?  I  have  always  looked  upon  you  as 
the  princess  in  the  fairy-tale,  and  longed  to 
be  the  fairy  prince  who  rescues  you  from 
some  danger,  and  does  the  polite  generally. 
I  found  you  asleep  once !  But  come  in !  it's 
quite  jolly." 

The  shadow  on  Elinor's  face  lightened 
somewhat  as  she  followed  him  into  the  hut ; 
he  had  the  happy  faculty  of  raising  people's 


spirits  without  reason  given  or  required. 
The  tiny  interior  smelt  of  pine-resin ;  a  log 
of  hemlock  was  crackling  in  the  fireplace, 
and  Jack,  with  great  ceremony,  offered  his 
guest  a  seat  on  the  wood-pile. 

"This  spot  is  historic,"  he  remarked. 
"  Here,  many  thousand  years  ago,  a  youth 
called  Garth  built  him  an  enchanted  canoe, 
of  birch-bark,  wherein,  when  it  was  com- 
pleted, he  seated  his  august  form,  and  sped 
away  down  yonder  rapids  to  the  lake. 
Death,  having  failed  to  catch  him  on  the 
journey,  gave  up  the  pursuit  permanently; 
and  thus  it  happens,  dear  princess,  that  this 
same  Garth  is  yet  alive.  The  place  has  been  im- 
proved from  a  mere  open  shed  to  a  hut,  since 
the  era  whereof  I  speak.  I  find  it  mighty 
comfortable.  A  splendid  retreat  to  study 
the  nature  and  habits  of  snow  and  ice  in  1 " 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  Urmhurst, 
Jack?" 

"  Well,  for  reasons.  Changes  are  in  the 
wind.  But  ere  long,  if  it  please  your  high- 
ness, I  shall  have  strange  tidings  to  impart." 

"Oh,  don't  talk  so  about  it! "  said  Eli- 
nor, suddenly  becoming  piteous.  "  I  know 
it  all — even  more  than  you  do !  " 

Jack  rested  a  hand  on  either  knee  and 
stared.  "  What  do  you  know  ?  " 

"About  the  robbery.  Golightley  him- 
self told  me,  last  night.  And  he  has  given 
it  all  back— all  he  had." 

"Golightley  told  you?  Given  it  back, 
has  he?"  repeated  Jack,  taking  up  one  of 
his  knees  thoughtfully,  and  biting  his  mus- 
tache. He  glanced  sharply  at  Elinor,  to  see 
what  temper  she  might  be  in. 

"  You  mustn't  feel  too  much  cut  up  about 
it,"  he  said,  cheerfully.  "  I  wasn't  sure 
whether  I  ought  to  let  you  into  the  secret, 
long  ago,  or  not.  I  did  give  you  a  sort  of 
hint  about  it  once,  you  know  :  I  half  thought 
you  suspected.  But  do  you  really  know 
quite  what  a  scamp  the  fellow  was?  Did  he 
remember  to  inform  you,  for  instance,  that 
the  thousand  pounds  he  borrowed  of  John 
Tenterden  were  the  means  that  enabled  him 
to  commit  the  robbery  ?  and  that — " 

Elinor  colored.  "I  didn't  ask  him;  I'd 
rather  not  know." 

"  Oh,  but  you'll  have  to  know  some  time ; 
and,  in  my  opinion,  it's  only  justice  to  your- 


256 


GARTH. 


self  and  other  people  that  you  should  know. 
If  you  go  off  with  the  notion  that,  although 
he  did  weakly  allow  himself  to  be  ensnared 
by  evil  counsels,  still  he  might  have  been 
worse,  and  a  good  deal  could  be  said  in  his 
favor,  you'd  simply  be  wasting  valuable  com- 
passion, much  better  bestowed  elsewhere. 
Now,  the  fact  is,  that  never  was  a  meaner 
or  more  treacherous  theft  committed  than 
this!  Golightley  took  advantage  of  Mr. 
Tenterden's  confidential  disclosures  to  him, 
and  of  memoranda  which  the  poor  old  man 
had  intrusted  to  him,  to  forge  an  order  on 
his  agents,  directing  them  to  buy  up  the 
whole  stock  of  a  certain  mine.  The  pur- 
chase was  made,  and  it  took  all  Tenterden's 
money  to  do  it.  Thereupon  Golightley  and 
his  partner — Flint  by  name,  and  Kineo  by 
nature  —  circulated  the  reports  they  had 
ready,  and  down  went  the  stock  to  nothing 
at  all.  It  was  all  contrived  beautifully,  that 
must  be  admitted.  Well,  then  these  fellows 
quietly  bought  it  all  in,  at  a  hundred  per 
cent,  discount,  using  for  that  purpose  the 
very  same  ready  money  with  which  Tenter- 
den  had  just  obliged  them.  That  was  an  ar- 
tistic touch,  wasn't  it?  But  all  this  time 
the  mine  was  not  only  good — there  was  noth- 
ing better ;  and  as  soon  as  the  false  reports 
were  proved  to  be  false,  up  goes  the  stock 
again  like  a  rocket,  and  our  two  friends 
realized  at  what  figure  they  pleased.  Luck- 
ily, Kineo  was  sharp  enough  to  get  some  evi- 
dences of  the  forgery  and  conspiracy  into  his 
hands,  foreseeing  that  he  might  find  them 
useful  some  day.  So  now,  you  see,  the 
knaves  have  fallen  out,  and  the  honest  men 
— or  women,  rather — are  coming  by  their 
own  again !  " 

Here  Jack,  who  had  spoken  as  fast  as 
possible  in  order  to  avoid  interruption, 
stopped,  and  tossed  up  his  fur  cap.  I'm 
glad  that's  off  my  mind ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Many's  the  time  my  very  bones  have  ached 
with  holding  it  in !  " 

u  I  was  in  no  danger  of  thinking  too  well 
of  him,"  said  Elinor,  with  a  sigh.  "  But 
they  are  neither  of  them  to  go  to  prison.  I 
am  going  to  get  the  proofs  from  Kineo,  and 
burn  them." 

"  The  devil  you: —    How,  I  mean  ?  " 

Elinor  explained  briefly,  Jack  listening 


with  keen  attention.  "  You  don't  mean  to 
say,"  he  exclaimed,  when  she  had  finished, 
"  that  you're  going  to  throw  away  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  on  that — trash !  " 

"  It  will  not  be  thrown  away." 

Jack  bit  his  mustache,  and  frowned :  he 
had  hi»  own  convictions  on  the  subject. 
He  was  wise  enough  to  perceive,  however, 
that  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  a  dispute 
with  Elinor,  who  would  be  more  likely 
either  to  dissent  from  him,  or  to  impose 
some  restriction  upon  his  action,  than  to  be 
persuaded  by  him :  whereas,  if  he  dexter- 
ously changed  the  topic,  he  would  retain 
both  her  favor  and  his  own  freedom. 

"  Oh,  that  little  villain  of  a  Madge  Dan- 
ver !"  he  muttered,  shaking  his  head.  "  What 
a  wild-goose  chase  she  did  send  me  on !  " 

"  Then  Madge  has  known — !  "  exclaimed 
Elinor,  and  stopped. 

"  Bless  your  heart,  princess !  she  has 
been  the  arch-conspirator  from  the  begin- 
ning. She  took  counsel  with  herself  be- 
times as  to  whether  Golightley,  Kineo,  or 
myself,  were  more  eligible  for  her.  But  she 
quarreled  with  Golightley,  and  in  me  she 
was  disappointed;  as  for  Kineo,  his  pros- 
pects will,  at  all  events,  be  improved  when 
you  have  carried  out  your  royal  purpose  of 
buying  the  proofs  of  him." 

"  Oh — are  you  sure  that — " 

"  I  cannot  myself  believe,"  interposed 
Jack,  while  his  cheeks  reddened  a  little, 
"  small  as  is  my  reverence  for  Master  Go- 
lightley, that  her  hold  upon  him  was  any- 
thing more  than  a  threat  of  exposure.  There 
must  be  a  limit  to  the  greatest  human  de- 
pravity, you  know ! " 

"  But  I  meant — "  said  Elinor,  coloring 
also,  "  about  Garth." 

"  Oh,  we're  safe  in  calling  that  match 
off,  I  think.  That  whole  affair  of  hers  with 
Garth  has  always  been  a  mystery,  though. 
•Mr.  Urmson  says  that  she  loves  him,  after 
a  fashion  of  her  own.  Sometimes  I  agree 
with  him,  and  at  other  times  I  don't.  But 
whether  or  not  she  loves  him,  I'll  bet  she 
won't  marry  him." 

"  Does  he  love  her  ?  "  asked  Elinor,  in  a 
lower  tone. 

"  Well,  he's  bullied  himself  into  believing 
it,  as  he  has  bullied  himself  into  a  great 


NEXT  MORNING. 


257 


many  other  things.  But  when  she  elopes 
and  leaves  him  in  the  lurch,  he  will  find 
himself  face  to  face  with  a  truth  which  I 
warned  him  of  years  ago,  when  we  were  at 
college — that  he  is  married  to  his  paint- 
ing, and  that  any  engagement  outside  of  that 
would  be  bigamous !  " 

Elinor  rose  from  the  wood-pile,  and  stood 
for  a  few  moments  with  her  hands  hanging 
folded  and  her  eyes  on  tiro  fire ;  then  she 
moved  toward  the  door. 

"  Madge  must  do  no  such  thing !  "  she 
said,  turning  to  Jack  with  a  troubled  look. 
'•  It  would  be  too  sad,  after  all  that  has  hap- 
pened. If  she  wishes  to  visit  Europe,  and 
see  beautiful  things  and  great  people,  she 
shall  go  with  mother  and  me.  She  can  be 
as  gay  and  fashionable  as  she  pleases:  it's 
natural  she  should  wish  to  be  —  she's  so 
beautiful  and  brilliant.  I'll  speak  to  her  to- 
morrow." 

"  You'll  find  this  charity  a  more  ex- 
travagant one  than  the  other,"  ventured 
Jack,  twisting  his  mustache  and  eying  her 
gravely. 

"Then  I  shall  like  it  the  better,"  said 
she,  with  a  passing  smile.  "  This  money 
seems  to  have  had  a  curse  upon  it,  so  far ; 
I  don't  need  it,  and  I  would  like  to  make  it 
do  a  little  good,  after  so  much  harm.  I 
don't  want  to  be  rich  ;  I  should  like  to  live 
by  my  violin  1 " 

She  stepped  across  the  threshold,  out  to 
the  sparkling  snow  and  sunshine.  Then 
Jack  took  his  courage  in  his  hands  and  fol- 
lowed her. 

"Princess  Elinor,"  said  he,  "why  do 
you  lavish  all  your  bounty  on  the  rogues, 
and  leave  the  poor  honest  fellows  out  in  the 
cold  ? " 

"  Only  the  rogues  seem  to  need  it,"  she 
answered,  smiling  again. 

"  No — because  then  I  would  be  a  rogue  ; 
and  I'm  not !  I've  been  a  good-for-nothing 
all  my  life,  but  I  have  always  reverenced 
good  women,  and  told  the  truth  to  every- 
body. Can't  you  give  me  something  too?" 

''  I'm  afraid  I  have  nothing  for  you,"  said 
she,  startled. 

"Look  here!  I  don't  want  ten  thousand 
pounds,  nor  to  be  gay  and  fashionable  at 
your  expense.  All  I  want  is  the  greatest 
17 


treasure  on  earth !  and  that's  you.  I  love 
you  with  my  heart  and  soul.  I  always  have 
loved  you ;  and  I  never  loved  any  other  wom- 
an. Elinor — say  you'll  be  my  wife.  I  be- 
lieve I  can  make  you  happy — I  know  I  can !  " 

"  I  cannot — oh,  I  cannot!  "  she  exclaimed, 
turning  her  face  away.  "  I  never  can  bo 
married.  I  feel  as  if  I  should  hate  the  man 
I  married,  even  though  I  had  loved  him  be- 
fore— marriage  has  seemed  such  a  gloomy 
thing  to  me,  since  I  have  looked  forward  to 
it  at  all.  It  seems  like  going  to  prison !  " 

"  But  to  be  my  wife  shall  be  coming  out 
of  prison !  I  know  it  wa8  wrong  to  ask  you 
so  soon  after  this  fuss;  but  I  won't  be  impa- 
tient ;  I'll  give  you  forever  to  think  it  over 
in !  at  least,  I'll  give  you  as  long  as  that  fel- 
low in  the  Bible  had  to  wait  —  seven  — 
months,  wasn't  it  ? " 

Elinor  laughed  ruefully,  pressing  the  point 
of  her  foot  into  the  snow. 

"I  won't  try  to  persuade  you  on  the 
ground  of  the  difference  it  would  make  to 
me,"  continued  Jack,  "because  that  would 
keep  me  talking  here  all  the  seven  months. 
But  you  should  be  as  much  mistress  of  the 
world  as  a  man  can  make  you  who  has  seen 
the  world  and  worships  whatever  part  of  it 
you  stand  on.  After  a  while,  even  if  you 
didn't  find  much  of  anything  to  admire  in 
me,  you  would  have  associated  so  many 
jolly  things  with  me,  that  at  last  you'd  count  , 
me  in  as  one  of  them — almost  without  mean- 
ing to !  Do  say,  at  least,  that  you  won't 
begin  with  saying  no !  " 

It  was  not  easy  wholly  to  resist  this 
pleading — not  the  words  so  much  as  the 
manner  of  it.  Jack  was  so  immeasurably  in 
earnest,  so  heart-and-soul  in  what  he  was 
saying,  his  face  and  voice  expressed  so  much 
more  than  his  sentences,  and  the  vigor  of 
his  desire  made  itself  so  strongly  felt,  that 
Elinor,  though  she  had  been  all  no  when  ho 
first  opened  the  subject,  could  not  at  once 
say  no  when  he  had  ceased.  And  why  should 
she  say  it — at  once?  The  ardor  and  utter < 
ness  of  his  devotion  touched  her,  coming,  as 
it  did,  at  the  season  of  her  greatest  loneliness. 
No  doubt  but  the  marriage  would  give  her  a 
scope  and  freedom  of  life  such  as  she  might 
not  otherwise  easily  attain ;  perhaps,  too,  it 
offered  opportunities  for  generosity  and  un- 


258 


GAETH. 


selfishness,  which  a  solitary  existence  would  r 
lack.     Why  say  no — at  all  ? 

Again,  she  was  not  called  upon  for  an 
immediate  or  positive  answer,  either  one 
way  or  the  other.  She  was. to  be  allowed 
time  to  question  and  scrutinize  the  new  idea 
on  all  sides,  and  to  pronounce  upon  it  at  her 
leisure.  All  that  was  asked  now  was,  that 
she  should  not  say  no.  She  had  always 
liked  Jack,  the  impact  of  whose  vigorous  and 
manly  nature  was  an  unspeakable  relief  after 
the  clamminess  of  Golightley.  And  Jack 
had  —  unconsciously  —  used  one  argument 
which  sank  more  deeply  into  Elinor's  heart 
than  any  of  his  deliberate  ones :  "  Garth  is 
married  to  his  painting !  "  Then,  what  need 
for  Elinor  to  be  over-solicitous  about  her 
destiny  ? 

All  this  while  Jack's  bright  hazel  eyes 
were  searching  her  face,  which  was  turned 
downward.  "When  she  lifted  it  at  last,  he 
drew  himself  up  like  a  soldier  in  presence  of 
the  enemy.  The  color  sprang  to  his  cheeks. 

"  But  you  do  not  know  me !  "  said  she, 
faintly. 

"  If  we'd  been  married  a  century,  I  could 
not  say '  I  know  you ! '  There  would  still  be 
a  thousand  new — lovelinesses  to  learn !  But 
I  love  you !  " 

"  You  say  too  much.  I  have  nothing  to 
give  you.  I  don't  love  you,  and  I'm  sure  I 
never  can.  It  would  spoil  a  true  friendship 
if  you  try  to  make  it  anything  more !  " 

"  Whatever  you  do,  don't  think  of  friend- 
ship !  "  exclaimed  Jack,  with  great  earnest- 
ness. "There  never  yet  was  a  true  friend- 
ship between  a  man  and  a  woman !  But 
just  stand  still  and  let  me  love  you!  Don't 
move ! " 

"  I  don't  know  that  it's  worth  while  for 
me  to  care  what  becomes  of  me — but  that's 
an  ungracious  thing  to  say!  I  like  you  so 
much  that — I  feel  sure  we  were  not  meant 
for  each  other !  " 

"  But  don't  say  no !  whatever  you  do, 
remember  that!  "  He  came  one  entreating 
step  nearer. 

"  I  won't  say  it,  then — now.  But,"  she 
added,  hurriedly,  for  the  delight  that  leaped 
into  Jack's  eyes  frightened  her,  "it  will 
make  it  harder  for  you  and  me  if  I  must  say 
it  hereafter.  But  at  any  rate  you  shall  see 


me,  and  know  something  about  what  sort  of  a 
person  I  am ;  and  then,  perhaps,  you'll  thank 
me  for  not  having  said  yes !  " 

"  All  I'm  afraid  for  is,  that  one  of  us 
may  die — for  this  is  too  good  to  be  true! 
Elinor — Elinor — Elinor! —  No,  don't  be 
scared !  I  mean  to  be  as  subdued  and  cir- 
cumspect as  a  duenna.  But  a  duenna  may 
kiss  the  princess's  hand  just  once! — Elinor, 
don't  you  think  seven  weeks  is  a  very  long 
time?" 

" O  Jack!  "  she  said,  panting  and  turning 
pale  ;  there  was  genuine  dismay  in  her  eyes 
and  voice.  "  Remember  this  is  not  a  prom- 
ise— not  an  engagement !  " 

"  No,  of  course  not,  else  I'd  have — not 
kissed  your  hand!  But  it  was  only  by  acci- 
dent that  I  said  seven  months.  You  know 
those  Bible  fellows  lived  hundreds  of  years, 
and  we  have  left  only  forty  or  fifty  at  the 
outside." 

Elinor  could  not  help  laughing,  though 
there  were  tears  on  her  eyelashes.  And  so 
they  parted  for  that  time. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

TWO    OLD   CROXIES. 

EARLY  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day, 
Madge  left  the  cottage,  and  set  off  toward 
Urmhurst.  She  walked  along  with  a  some- 
what pensive  mien ;  occasionally  looking  up 
and  about,  and  then  again  falling  into  rev- 
erie. She  was  pale,  but  there  was  brilliance 
in  her  eyes  extraordinary  even  for  her;  and 
such  a  deliberation  and  stateliness  of  move- 
ment as  might  indicate  a  great  bracing-up 
and  dilation  of  the  spirit  within.  On  arriv- 
ing at  the  house,  she  mounted  at  once  to  the 
garret;  for  Garth,  as  she  knew,  was  not  at 
home,  and  there  was  no  one  else  to  question 
her  proceedings.  In  the  garret  she  remained 
for  more  than  an  hour.  On  her  return 
down-stairs,  Golightley  met  her  in  the  hall. 
He  had  on  his  hat  and  coat,  and  accompa- 
nied her,  with  his  usual  affability,  on  her 
road  toward  the  village. 

"  There  is  an  enterprising  air  about  you 
this  morning,  Miss  Maggie,"  remarked  he. 
"Are  any  fresh  projects  in  suspense?  " 


TWO   OLD   CRONIES. 


259 


"  None  that  concern  me,  Uncle  Golight- 
ley.  But  I  believe  Mr.  Kineo  would  like  an 
opportunity  to  say  good-by  to  you,  before  he 
goes." 

"Ah!  I  presume  he  desires  to  rid  him- 
self of  those — ah — documents,  does  he  not? 
Well,  I  shall  drop  in  on  him  this  evening,  I 
think." 

"From  what  I  understood,  I  don't  think 
he  means  to  let  you  have  them  until  after  he 
is  quite  sure  that  they  can  be  of  no  further 
use  to  him.  His  idea  seems  to  be  that,  if 
you  had  the  documents  before  he  got  his 
check  cashed,  and  was  on  his  way  to  Eu- 
rope, something  might  happen  to  hinder  his 
getting  away." 

"  H'm !  he  doesn't  expect  me  to — h'm !  " 
Golightley  caressed  his  cheeks  thoughtfully, 
and  murmured  inarticulately  to  himself  as 
he  stalked  along.  "  If  our  friend  has  be- 
come so  cautious,"  he  continued  at  length, 
"  or  has  taken  such  cautious  advice,  Miss 
Maggie! — as  to  mistrust  my  good  faith,  the 
only  result  would  be  to  defeat  the  prosperity 
of  both  parties.  He  must  know  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  draw  that  amount 
of  ready  money  myself,  for,  in  order  to  do 
it,  I  should  be  obliged  to  go  to  Boston ;  and 
just  now  there  are  guardian  angels  abroad, 
who  might  misinterpret  my  intentions  in 
making  such  a  journey.  As  to  his  anticipat- 
ing any  hinderance  after  our  bargain  is  settled 
— anything  of  that  sort,  you  know — he  sim- 
ply cuts  his  own  nose  off  if  he's  ass  enough 
to  suppose  it.  And  he  certainly  can't  ex- 
pect me  to  let  him  keep  the  documents  until 
he  has  cashed  the  check  and  taken  flight! 
With  every  respect  for  his  sound  memory 
and  conscientiousness,  that  would — eh  ?  " 
Uncle  Golightley  brought  forward  his  side 
locks  and  laughed. 

"  I  shouldn't  imagine  he  would  expect  any- 
thing so  unbusiness-like,"  returned  Madge, 
composedly.  "But  might  not  some  com- 
promise be  made  ?  For  instance,  suppose 
he  were  to  hand  the  documents  to  some 
third  person,  who  would  give  them  to  you 
on  receiving  word  from  him  to  do  so  ? " 

"  Ha,  ha !  an  admirable  scheme,  my  dear 
Margaret,  with  only  one  objection  to  it, 
which  is — the  difficulty  of  finding  a  fidus 
Achates  of  both  parties;  one  whom  I  could 


depend  upon  to  hand  me  the  documents 
when  my  honorable  friend  sent  him  the 
necessary  permission ;  and  whom  my  honor- 
able friend  could  trust  to  keep  them  from 
me  until  the  aforesaid  propitious  moment 
arrived  !  I  must  confess  that  I  should  be  at 
a  loss  where  to  put  my  finger  upon  such  a 
treasure  of  a  confidant !  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  believe,"  said  Madge,  glanc- 
ing at  him  from  the  corner  of  her  long, 
dark  eye — "I  think  such  a  person  has  been 
found !  " 

Golightley  stopped  caressing  himself,  and 
pressed  on  his  eye-glasses. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  It's  Garth,  I  believe." 

"  You  believe  it's—  Garth  ?  "  He  fetched 
a  long  breath  and  retained  it  for  several 
seconds ;  then  drew  his  brows  together  and 
threw  up  his  chin.  "  Well,  I  don't !  "  he  de- 
clared ;  and  brought  his  hands  together  with 
an  emphatic  clap. 

Madge  laughed  lightly.  "  I  was  afraid 
you  wouldn't — that  is,  that  it  would  surprise 
you  at  first.  Poor  Garth  seems  so  innocent, 
and  slow  to  see  things.  But  the  most  inno-* 
cent-seeming  persons  sometimes  turn  out  to 
have  been  quite  acute.  At  all  events,  Garth 
knows  all  about  your  affairs  and  Mr.  Kineo's, 
and  has  known  for  some  while.  And  he  has 
called  on  Mr.  Kineo  at  his  lodgings,  and  they 
have  made  all  arrangements.  It  was  on  his 
account  that  Garth  got  up  the  skating-party 
for  to-morrow — so  that  he  might  be  able  to 
skate  away  down  the  meadows  without  any 
one's  suspecting  him.  And  it  is  Garth  who 
will  take  charge  of  the  documents  for  you, 
Uncle  Golightley." 

"When  does  Kineo  propose  delivering 
them  to  him?" 

"  Oh,  Garth  has  had  them  several  days." 

Golightley  paused  to  recover  himself. 
"If  that  be  the  case,"  he  rejoined,  "I 
shall  take  the  liberty  to  keep  my  money 
in  my  pocket!  I  begin  to  think  it  must 
be  my  honorable  friend  Kineo  who  is  stu- 
pid !  " 

"  Not  quite  so  stupid  as  that !  "  answered 
Madge,  laughing  again.  "  Of  course  he  didn't 
let  Garth  have  the  documents  for  nothing. 
Garth  paid  him  fifty  thousand  dollars  in 
bank-notes  for  them  yesterday ;  and  you  are 


260 


GAETH. 


to  give  him  the  check  you  were  to  have 
given  Kineo — and  more  too,  I'm  afraid !  " 

"  H'm !  upon  my  word,  this  is  interest- 
ing! By  George,  Garth  is  coming  out!  " 

"  You  see,  Garth  found  out,  among  other 
things,  that  Sam  was  heir  to  the  Eve  leg- 
acy; so  he  wrote  to  Professor  Grindle  for 
it." 

"But  it  strikes  me,"  interposed  Golight- 
ley,  "  that  the  professor  is  too  good  a  busi- 
ness-man  to  give  up  that  same  legacy  with- 
out proof  positive  that  it  belonged  to  the 
person  in  whose  behalf  it  was  applied  for." 

"  That  same  thing  struck  Garth — wasn't 
it  curious?"  rejoined  Madge,  with  a  smile. 
"So,  as  I  happened  to  know  where  the  cer- 
tificates of  his  mother's  marriage  and  his 
baptism  were,  I  got  them,  and  Garth  sent 
them  on  with  his  letter.  Professor  Grindle 
found  them  legal,  and  sent  them  back  to  us 
with  the  money.  Only,  that  is  a  secret,  be- 
cause only  Nikomis  and  I  know  where  the 
certificates  are  kept,  and  I  borrowed  them 
without  her  permission." 

"  I  think  I  could  make  it  worth  some- 
Jjody's  while  to  show  them  to  me!"  re- 
marked Golightley,  with  a  significant  look. 

"  Oh,  they  are  quite  safe — nothing  can 
happen  to  them ;  and  Sam,  I  know,  is  very 
fond  of  calling  himself  your  nephew ;  more 
so,  I  think,  than  Garth  is !  "  said  Madge, 
with  an  engagingly  confidential  air. 

"Well,  by  George!  I  feel  sat  upon,"  ex- 
claimed Golightley,  with  a  rather  ghastly 
attempt  at  a  humorous  grimace.  "  My  proj- 
ects don't  look  especially  brilliant,  do  they? 
But  I  ought  to  thank  you  for  the  confidence 
you  have  shown  in  me  in  giving  me  such  an 
amount  of  private  information.  Suppose, 
now,  I  had  got  a  little  bit  nervous  and  anx- 
ious, and  had  gone  and  told  my  friends,  the 
guardian  angels,  that  a  dear  nephew  of  mine 
was  starting  for  Europe  on  such  and  such  a 
date,  by  such  and  such  a  route ;  but  that  he 
was  apt  to  be  very  heedless  and  flighty,  and 
would  they  please  take  care  that  he  reached 
his  proper  destination  ?  —  "What  if  I  had 
been  such  a  fussy  old  uncle  as  to  do  that — 
eh?" 

"  Ah,  but  I  knew  you  were  never  fussy, 
Uncle  Golightley,"  returned  Madge,  with  an 
arch  glance.  "  You  never  will  be  until  you 


have  those  documents  of  yours  to  take  care 
of;  and  then  your  nephew  will  be  beyond 
the  guardian  angels'  reach!  " 

"  Ah !  belle  dame  sans  mercif  You  don't 
leave  me  a  loop-hole,  do  you  ?  Not  one,  not 
one,  ,not  one !  Well,  now  I  suppose  you  will 
marry  Garth,  and  settle  down  here  quietly ; 
happy  and  contented  in  the  care  of  your 
hens  and  cows,  cheerfully  busy  with  the 
housework  and  cookery;  and,  in  the  even- 
ings, bringing  out  your  spinning-wheel  or 
your  knitting,  and  sitting  with  your  lord  and 
master  before  the  kitchen-fire!  A  lovely 
idyllic  picture — two  souls  possessing  perfect 
confidence  and  Batisfactiou  in  each  other! 
— I  suppose,  by-the-by,  that  Garth  had  no 
impolite  questions  to  ask  you,  as  to  how  you 
came  to  be  so  well  informed  on  all  these  ob- 
scure points,  and  as  to  your  reasons  for  not 
having  confided  in  him  until  now?  Noth- 
ing of  that  sort,  eh  ? " 

"  There  was  no  need  for  him  to  ask  me 
such  questions,  Uncle  Golightley,"  replied 
Madge,  with  dignity.  "You  speak  almost 
as  if  I  had  anything  to  conceal  from  him ! 
Of  course  Garth  knows  that  whatever  in- 
formation I  had  came  to  me  accidentally, 
through  my  intimacy  with  Nikomis;  and 
that  I  had  not  told  him  about  it  at  first,  be- 
cause he  was  ill,  and  because  I  had  hoped 
that  things  might  be  arranged  so  that  the 
family  name  need  not  be  disgraced.  But 
when  I  found  that  nothing  could  be  done 
without  his  help,  there  was  nothing  left  but 
to  ask  him  for  it.  He  trusts  me  perfectly ; 
why  should  he  not  ?  Does  not  Elinor  Go- 
lightley trust  you  ? " 

Madge  could  not  have  known  what  would 
be  the  full  effect  of  this  last  stab ;  it  may 
have  determined  Golightley  to  a  course  of 
action  as  to  which  he  had  hesitated  until 
then.  He  made  no  reply,  however,  though 
his  face  twitched  and  grew  whiter  than  be- 
fore. But  when,  soon  afterward,  he  had 
left  her  and  struck  off  through  the  woods 
by  himself,  he  murmured  more  than  once, 
"  There  is  one  loop-hole,  Miss  Maggie ;  just 
one ! " 


MUTUAL   COURTESIES. 


261 


CHAPTER  LXXV. 

MUTUAL    COURTESIES. 

Hia  course  now  led  him  toward  the 
point  of  junction  of  the  mill-stream  with 
the  lake.  Although  he  had  never,  thus  far, 
been  interfered  with  by  any  of  those  "  guardi- 
an angels  "  whereof  he  had  spoken  to  Madge, 
yet  ho  could  guess  pretty  accurately  where 
they  might  be  found,  and  doubted  not  that  it 
would  be  easy  enough  (should  he  feel  so  in- 
clined) to  have  speech  of  one  of  them.  He 
may  not,  however,  have  been  aware  that 
Selwyn  himself  was  already  returned  ;  and 
it  was  therefore  an  equal  surprise  to  both 
of  them,  perhaps,  when  they  presently  met 
in  one  of  the  more  secluded  forest  by- 
paths. 

Jack  was  in  such  high  spirits  from  his 
morning's  interview  with  Elinor,  that  he 
would  probably  have  greeted  even  the  devil 
with  magnanimity,  had  that  personage  hap- 
pened in  his  way ;  and  since  Golightley  had 
lost  what  Jack  had  gained,  and  was  further- 
more in  a  fair  way  to  get  full  measure  of 
retribution  for  his  misdeeds,  the  younger 
man  was  disposed  to  be  forbearing.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  bowed  with  grave  politeness ; 
and,  perceiving  that  Golightley  had  some- 
thing to  say  to  him,  he  stopped. 

"A  fine  afternoon  again,  Jack;  I'm  in 
hopes  this  weather  will  keep  on  over  to- 
morrow. I  see  you've  returned  from  your 
trip  in  season  to  join  our  picnic  on  the  ice." 

"  Well,  I've  not  quite  made  up  my  mind 
whether  to  go." 

"  Ah,  really  ?  Your  arrival  seemed  so 
opportune — " 

"  I  hope  it  may  prove  so." 

"  The  fact  is,  my  dear  Jack,  I  don't  be- 
lieve we  shall  be  able  to  do  without  you ! 
Have  you  heard — have  you  heard  the  latest 
developments  concerning  this  robbery  busi- 
ness ? " 

Jack  looked  at  him  attentively,  wonder- 
ing whether  the  man  could  be  meditating 
eome  evasion  even  at  this  stage  of  affairs. 

"  I'm  open  to  instruction,"  said  he. 

"It's  a  philosophic  virtue,  I  believe,"  ob- 
served the  other,  "  for  a  man  to  know  when 
he's  beaten ;  and  I'm  free  to  admit  that  I 


T  am  a  very  good  philosopher,  as  far  as  that 
goes.  But  I  presume  even  philosophers 
have  their  weaknesses ;  and  mine  is,  not  to 
be  philosophic  on  any  one's  account  but  my 
own.  Now,  to  proceed  to  the  point  at  once : 
our  friend  Samuel  Kineo,  alias  Flint,  who 
(as  you  are  most  likely  aware  by  this  time) 
is  on  a  visit  to  his  grandmamma  in  the  attic 
of  Urmhurst,  proposes  to  leave  for  foreign 
parts  to-morrow  evening,  with  ten  thousand 
pounds  ready  money  in  his  trousers-pockets, 
.  to  pay  his  traveling-expenses  withal." 

"  I  conceive  you,  sir!  "  said  Jack,  sarcas- 
tically. "Having  given  him  that  sum  in 
exchange  for  the  power  he  held  over  you, 
you  are  now  desirous  of  defrauding  him  of 
his  hard-won  earnings.  Very  astute,  and 
just  what  I  should  have  expected  of  you ! 
But  are  you  correct  in  saying  that  he  holds 
ready  money,  and  not  a  check,  which  might 
or  might  not  be  worth  more  than  the  paper 
it's  written  on?" 

Golightley  laughed.  "  Well  guessed — 
well  guessed,  my  dear  Jack !  but  you  are 
out  for  once.  Very  likely  I  had  intended 
something  of  that  sort,  but  I've  been  fore- 
stalled. I  haven't  got  the  documents,  and 
some  one  else — my  nephew  Garth,  namely 
— has  paid  the  ready  money.  That  money, 
of  course,  is  the  Eve  legacy,  and  is,  or  was, 
the  last  scrap  of  Urmson  property  left  from 
my  ravages.  Garth,  wishing  to  save  the 
family  honor,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
dumps  it  into  Kineo's  pockets,  gets  in  return 
the  inconvenient  documents,  and  then  rec- 
ommends my  fellow-outlaw  to  be  off  as 
fast  as  his  skates  can  carry  him." 

"That's  news  certainly ;  where  did  you 
pick  it  up  ? " 

"  From  the  young  lady  who,  as  I  take  it, 
contemplates  sharing  the  rewards  and  perils 
of  Mr.  Kineo's  future  career — unless,  indeed, 
she  has  contrived  a  way  to  outwit  him,  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  us,  which  is  always  pos- 
sible !  She  confided  the  secret  to  me,  you 
understand,  on  the  assumption  that  self-in- 
terest weighs  a  few  ounces  more  in  my  bal- 
ance than  is  actually  the  case.  By-the-by,  I 
may  as  well  tell  you  that,  some  few  weeks 
since,  I  paid  into  the  account  of  the  lady  ' 
who  was  to  have  been  my  wife  the  sum  of 
eighty-and-odd  thousand  pounds.  It's  all  I 


262 


GARTH. 


had,  except  a  trifle,  to — keep  me  in  gloves 
and  cigarettes  for  a  month  or  so!  " 

The  tone  and  manner  of  this  reference  to 
Elinor  smote  Jack  with  compassion.  In  Go- 
lightley's  preceding  utterances  had  heen 
perceptible  only  the  jaunty  bravado  which 
strove  to  disguise,  however  flimsily,  the 
shameful  squalor  of  exposed  rascality.  But 
in  mentioning  her  who,  to  him  as  well  as  to 
Jack,  was  the  first  and  dearest  of  woman- 
kind, his  voice  had  turned  hoarse,  and  the 
haggard  lines  in  his  face  had  seemed  to  deep- 
en. "  If  the  fellow  really  loved  her,"  said 
Jack  to  himself,  "  to  have  lost  her  is  more 
than  enough  punishment  for  meaner  crimes 
than  his.  Heaven  knows  I'm  far  enough 
from  deserving  her  myself !  " 

"  Look  here !  "  he  continued  aloud,  plant- 
ing himself  face  to  face  with  his  interlocutor, 
"I  don't  see  but  what  you  deserve  some 
credit  for  this  hint.  Of  course  I  see  that  it 
gratifies  your  spite  to  block  Kineo's  little 
game,  and  of  course  you  rely  on  Garth  not 
to  use  the  proofs  against  you,  since  you've 
already  given  up  your  share  of  the  booty  to 
the  proper  owners.  Still,  you  do  risk  some- 
thing, and  I've  no  right  to  suppose  that  your 
chief  motive  is  not  to  save  your  brother  and 
Garth  their  fifty  thousand  dollars.  And  I'll 
be  damned  if  I'm  not  sorry  for  you,  any 
way !  What  do  you  mean  to  do  with  your- 
self, if  you  get  out  of  this  scrape  ? " 

"Ah,  well — absit  odium,  my  dear  Jack, 
but  you  must  allow  me  to  say  that  that 
would  be  my  own  business !  " 

"  I  know.  But  I  had  a  reason  for  asking. 
— Confound  it,  look  here!  "  said  Jack,  with 
some  embarrassment,  "I've  got  more  money 
than  I  know  what  to  do  with — what  would 
you  say  to  my  shipping  you  off  to  Australia  ? 
— my  people  have  got  a  place  of  business 
there — and  putting  you  in  the  way  of  mak- 
ing a  good,  honest  living?  You  can  make  a 
new  man  of  yourself  there,  in  every  sense  of 
the  word.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  It's  kind  of  you,  Jack,  by  George !  "  an- 
swered the  other,  indifferently.  "But  the 
fact  is,  I'd  thought  of  a  longer  jaunt  than 
that — or  rather,  I  hardly  think  I'm  up  to 
that  kind  of  thing  now.  You  see  I've  given 
it  a  pretty  fair  trial — this  campaigning  about 
at  other  fellows'  expense,  you  understand — 


and  I'm  tired  of  it !  I  don't  seem  to  have 
the  stuff  in  me ;  talent  enough,  but  it  doesn't 
seem  to  work  out  in  the  right  way.  No — 
no,  I'm  afraid  I  shouldn't  do  your  introduc- 
tion much  credit.  I'm  pretty  well  tired  out 
— I'm  pretty  well  tired  out !  " 

"  Oh,  while  there's  life  there's  hope !  " 
returned  Jack ;  but  he  could  not  help  ac- 
knowledging to  himself  that  Golightley's 
words  were  true.  Everything  in  the  man's 
appearance  testified  to  an  exhaustion  of 
moral  and  mental  resources  almost  beyond 
hope  of  remedy.  "  Well,  think  it  over,"  he 
added,  "and  we'll  speak  of  it  again  next 
week.  Probably  we'll  be  able  to  let  Kineo 
off  in  the  end,  after  making  him  hand  back 
the  legacy,  so  he  won't  stand  in  your 
way.  I  should  like  to  give  you  a  lift  if  I 
can." 

Golightley  stood  silent  awhile,  looking 
abstractedly  first  in  one  direction  and  then 
in  another,  and  settling  and  resettling  his 
eye-glasses  on  his  nose.  Then,  appearing  all 
at  once  to  recollect  himself,  he  lifted  his  hat 
to  Jack  and  said : 

"Till  next  week,  then! — by-the-by,  what 
was  it?  ....  ah,  yes — kind  of  you,  very 
kind  of  you,  by  George!  Till  next  week, 
then,  Jack — Auf  Wiedersehen !  as  we  said  in 
Germany."  And,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand, 
he  passed  on. 

Jack  continued  his  walk  in  the  opposite 
direction,  pondering  over  the  new  aspect 
things  had  taken.  "  Poor  old  Golightley !  " 
he  murmured ;  "  there  doesn't  seem  to  bo 
much  left  of  him,  sure  enough.  His  mind 
has  taken  to  running  on  two  or  three  sub- 
jects— and  not  particularly  agreeable  ones,  I 
fancy — until  he  hardly  hears  or  remembers 
what  is  said  to  him  on  other  matters,  even 
when  they  especially  concern  him.  But 
that  was  a  happy  thought  of  mine  about 
Australia,  if  he  can  only  find  the  sense  and 
pluck  to  take  it  up. 

"But  to  think  of  dear  old  Garth,  my 
genius,  whom  nobody  ever  suspected  of  the 
power  to  awaken  from  the  reveries  of  im- 
agination and  idealism — actually  making  a 
practical  man  of  affairs  out  of  himself,  and 
concocting  a  plot  to  bring  things  right  with- 
out asking  leave  of  anybody !  Well,  no 
doubt  he  might  beat  any  of  us  at  our  own 


MUTUAL  COURTESIES. 


263 


game,  if  he  chose  to  put  his  mind  to  it.  The 
plot  would  have  worked  beyond  a  doubt, 
but  for  the  incalculable  contingency  of.  old 
Golightley's  butting  against  himself.  As  for 
me,  so  far  from  turning  out  a  success  in  my 
amateur  detectiveship,  I've  simply  been  ca- 
joled and  bullied  about  like  a  raw  school- 
boy. I've  found  out  very  little  that  wasn't 
plain  beforehand  to  anybody,  and  what  I 
have  found  out  hasn't  helped  me  do  any- 
thing. Then  Madge  must  pack  me  off  to 
Canada,  like  a  political  exile,  with  that  ho- 
cus-pocus of  a  letter  of  hers;  and  there  I 
might  have  been  to  this  moment,  hunting 
for  phantom  Kineos  in  snow-drifts,  if  an  ac- 
cident hadn't  revealed  that  I  was  turning  my 
back  on  what  I  was  after.  It's  no  thanks 
to  me  that  the  scamp  didn't  make  off  long 
ago ;  that  must  have  been  what  Madge  in- 
tended ;  but  I  suppose  the  rogues  fell  out, 
between  the  three  of  them,  and  let  the  op- 
portunity go  by  while  they  were  busy  quar- 
reling. 

"  Well,  then,  here  are  Elinor  and  Garth, 
both  with  their  scheme  all  arranged  inde- 
pendently of  each  other  and  of  me,  and 
Garth  must  actually  have  had  an  interview 
with  his  ruffian  of  a  cousin — God  save  the 
mark !  I  expect  he'll  punch  my  head  well 
for  interfering  with  his  plans ;  but  it  would 
never  do  to  lose  the  legacy  in  that  way. 
Besides  .... 

"Look  here!  of  course,  he  can  know 
nothing  of  Madge's  rascalities  ?  No — these 
geniuses  who  can  see  through  stone-walls  if 
they  only  will  look  at  them,  can  be  blinder 
than  dead  men  when  they  choose  not  to  see. 
•She  could  make  him  believe  what  she  liked 
iibout  herself  with  half  a  word;  and  after 
all  there's  nothing  definite  against  her; 
nothing  to  be  sworn  to — only  sworn  at !  ha, 
ha,  ha!  By  jingo,  it's  a  shame  for  me  to  be 
giggling  here  about  these  things;  but  I'm 
so  confoundedly  happy  on  my  own  account, 
I  should  giggle  at  a  funeral  I  Well,  if  Miss 
Madge  will  only  start  on  an  elopement  to- 
morrow evening,  it  will  at  least  have  the 
good  effect  of  averting  Jove's  anger  from 
my  own  head,  when  I  intercept  and  bring 
back  the  erring  pair.  .  .  .  Hullo!  behold 
him,  in  his  habit  as  he  lived!  " 

In  fact,  Garth  was  in  view,  walking  rap- 


idly with  his  head  down,  and  making  slashes 
at  the  snow  before  him  with  his  stick.  He 
was  close  to  Selwyn  before  noticing  him. 

"Jack!  I  thought  you  were  in  Can- 
ada !  "  They  shook  hands. 

"  Who  told  you  I  was  in  Canada?  " 

"Madge." 

"Did  she  tell  you  who  sent  me  there?  " 

Garth  smiled.  "Well — it  was  to  keep 
you  out  of  mischief !  " 

"Just  as  I  thought — she's  been  telling 
him  a  lie !  "  thought  Jack ;  for  his  friend's 
light  treatment  of  the  matter  was  not  other- 
wise explicable.  "  And  no  doubt  she  repre- 
sented me  as  a  busybody,  which  I  am ! — 
You'd  like  to  have  me  back  there,  then?" 
he  demanded  aloud. 

"No;  you  can  save  me  trouble,  since 
you  are  here.  Sam  Kineo  is  to  escape  to- 
morrow night,  by  way  of  the  long  meadows. 
You  can  take  care  that  nothing  gets  in  his 
way;  and  be  sure  you  do  it!  " 

"Ha!  my  lord  is  imperious.  Will  he 
deign  to  remember  that  I  serve,  not  his  in- 
terests, but  those  of  his  betters? " 

"I  have  the  means  of  unloading  my  un- 
happy uncle  to  the  last  farthing.  I  shall  do 
substantial  justice,  without  the  injustice  of 
publicity." 

"Listen  to  the  autocrat!  Might  your 
slave  petition  for  a  guarantee? " 

"  Take  my  word,  Jack !  " 

"The  sublime  assurance!  I  wonder 
whether  there  is  a  single  thing  in  this  world 
which  Garth  Machiavelli  Urmson  does  not 
know  ?  Methinks,  not  one!  " 

"I  know  that  you  and  I  are  of  one  mind 
on  this  matter — and  that  I  am  in  a  hurry ! 
You'll  be  on  the  lake  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  it's  lucky  for  you  I  happen 
to  be  in  an  extraordinary  good-humor.  But 
I  shall  not  appear  on  the  lake  to-morrow ;  if 
your  new  protege  is  to  have  the  bars  let 
down  for  him,  it  is  not  in  common  decency 
that  I  should  make  myself  personally  con- 
spicuous in  doing  him  that  service.  And — 
hold  on!  I  must  toll  you  the  occasion  of 
my  good-humor,  lest  you  attribute  my  com- 
placent behavior  to  poltroonery.  Elinor 
Golightley  has  half  promised — or  maybe 
three-quarters — to  do — what  do  you  think  ? " 
"  I  haven't  the  least  idea," 


264 


GARTH. 


"  We  have  hit  upon  the  one  thing  that 
he  didn't  know !  and  now  he  shall  be  told 
that  also.  "Why,  to  be  my  wife. — Oho!  in- 
terested at  last,  are  you  ?  " 

The  expression  of  Garth's  face,  and  his 
entire  bearing,  had  in  a  moment  undergone 
a  great  though  indescribable  change.  His 
lips  parted ;  his  eyes  seemed  to  grow  small- 
er; he  leaned  heavily  on  his  walking-stick. 
But  before  Jack  could  speak  again,  he  said, 
slowly : 

"I  never  was  more  surprised.  There's 
nothing  for  which  I  ought  to  be  more  glad." 
He  held  out  his  hand.  "  I  didn't  even  know 
that  she  and  my  uncle  were  parted  yet. 
Jack,  I'm  glad  for  you  with  ...  all  my 
heart!" 

With  the  last  words  he  gripped  his 
friend's  hand  so  forcibly  that  the  latter 
winced.  "  You've  got  your  muscle  back,  if 
not  your  cordiality ! ':  he  said,  laughing. 
"  But  as  to  that  affair  with  Golightley — of 
course  she  never  cared  for  him :  and  I,  hap- 
pening by  good  luck  to  come  upon  her  at 
the  right  moment — O  Garth,  dear  old  cur- 
mudgeon and  friend  of  my  earlier  days !  I 


am  so  happy !  absit  imidia,  as  poor  Golight- 
ley would  say,  but  you'll  never  be  so  happy, 
with  all  your  genius.  But  I  mustn't  give 
you  the  idea  that  she  has  actually  promised 
yet,  because  she  hasn't,  and  thinks  she 
never  can,  and  so  forth ;  and — mind  you — 
I  wouldn't  have  opened  my  head  to  any  one 
in  the  world  besides  you  about  it ;  but  you 
and  I,  you  know  .  .  .  Oh,  do  be  enthusi- 
astic, can't  you  ?  I  would  for  you !  " 

Garth  laughed,  stretched  his  arms  and 
shoulders,  and  yawned !  But  when  he  saw 
a  shade  of  disappointment  on  Jack's  hand- 
some face,  he  said,  with  the  deep-toned  ten- 
derness which  he  rarely  threw  into  his 
voice : 

"  I  feel  your  happiness  so  much,  Jack — 
that's  why  I  don't  say  more.  You  know  I 
was  always  a  dumb  beast.  But  you  can't 
say  so  much  for  yourself  as  I  can  feel  for 
you!" 

They  parted,  each  going  his  way.  Jack 
was  appeased. 

"  Can  the  same  Creator  have  made  that 
man  and  his  uncle?"  he  asked  himself,  ad- 
miringly. 


BOOK  X. 
GARTH. 


CHAPTER  LXXVI. 

GETTING    TINDER    WAT. 

GAETH  was  up  early  on  the  morning  of 
Christmas-day,  and  went  out  to  the  barn  to 
have  a  word  with  the  cows  and  horses. 
Many  changes  had  occurred  in  his  world 
since  that  October  morning  of  his  last  re- 
corded visit;  there  were  new  friends,  new 
enemies ;  but,  after  all,  these  animals  greet- 
ed him  with  the  same  brute  sincerity  of 
kindness  now  as  then.  They  did  not  sym- 
pathize with  him ;  they  did  not  pity  him,  nor 


hope  nor  fear  for  him.  They  did  not  honor 
his  pure  resolutions,  nor  share  his  anxieties, 
nor  respect  his  principles.  Yet  they  did  love 
him,  after  their  own  fashion  and  upon  their 
own  grounds;  and  the  positive  and  palpable 
assurance  of  this  fact  gave  Garth  strong 
and  deep  satisfaction.  He  gazed  in  their 
calm  faces  with  eyes  as  serene  as  theirs: 
there  was  no  need  to  hide  his  trouble  from 
them,  and  therefore  his  trouble  took  wings 
and  flew  away  for  a  time.  Peacefully  they 
gazed  at  him,  with  just  enough  recognition 
of  what  he  was,  to  be  pleased  with  him ;  and 
he  gazed  back,  until  he  could  almost  iden- 


GETTING   UNDER   WAY. 


265 


tity  himself  with  the  sweet,  soulless  animal 
nature.  Blessed  is  it  for  the  world  that  only 
man  is  dowered  with  a  soul !  If  moral  ex- 
perience and  responsibility  descended  below 
him  in  the  order  of  creation,  the  earth  would 
be  a  more  intolerable  purgatory  than  any 
that  Dante  or  Swedenborg  has  told  us  of. 

So  Garth  lounged  amid  the  stalls  and 
mangers  for  a  luxurious  hour  or  two,  and 
thought  that  the  longer  he  lived  within  the 
realm  of  kine-land,  the  more  loath  he  should 
be  to  bid  farewell  to  it.  At  last,  however, 
it  became  necessary  to  get  some  breakfast, 
and  prepare  for  the  events  of  the  day ;  and 
he  reluctantly  put  on  manhood  again  and 
returned  to  the  house.  Kineo  had  already 
been  instructed  as  to  the  course  he  was  to 
pursue  and  the  precautions  he  was  to  ob- 
serve, so  there  was  not  much  to  do  besides 
packing  provisions  in  hampers  and  baskets, 
getting  fishing-lines  in  order,  and  heating  in- 
definite numbers  of  bricks  to  the  scorching- 
point  for  the  benefit  of  tender  feet  and 
hands.  When  everything  else  was  ready,  he 
harnessed  two  horses  to  the  double  sleigh 
(which  had  been  healed  of  its  late  wound), 
and  leaving  them  at  the  door,  with  their 
blankets  on,  went  up-stairs  to  bid  his  father 
farewell. 

"I  shall  be  thankful  to  have  a  day  to 
myself,"  remarked  Mr.  Urrnson,  in  answer  to 
Garth's  regret  that  he  must  be  left  solitary  ; 
"  or,  rather,  to  have  the  privilege  of  spending 
it  undisturbed  with  the  select  society  of  the 
last  two  hundred  and  fifty  years!"  and  he 
laid  his  thin,  graceful  hand  on  the  piled-np 
manuscript  of  his  history.  "I  expect  to 
be  amazingly  refreshed  by  the  time  you  re- 
turn." 

"  You  certainly  look  better  to-day  than 
you  have  lately,"  said  Garth.  "  The  profess- 
or will  say  so  when  he  sees  you  to-morrow. 
By-the-way,  since  you  will  probably  have 
fallen  asleep  before  I  get  home  to-night,  I'll 
wish  you  a  merry  Christmas  and  a  happy 
New-Year,  now.  Many  of  them,  father !  " 

"Thanks,  beloved  Hottentot!  But  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  hope  you'll  keep  the  happy 
New-Year  for  yourself.  I  have  had  as  many 
as  I  can  hold — quite  as  many  as  are  good 
for  me.  Although  I  am  still  the  parson's 
junior  by  some  few  winters,  it  can  be  said 


of  me — when  the  time  comes — 'He  died  full 
of  years  ! '  It  takes  very  much  fewer  years 
to  fill  some  people  than  others ;  and  Provi- 
dence has  made  my  capacity  somewhat  lim- 
ited." 

"  No,  no ! "  said  Garth,  speaking  the 
words  with  an  indrawing  of  the  breath.  He 
sat  down  beside  his  father ;  his  throat  ached 
and  his  eyes  filled.  "  How  I  love  him !  "  he 
thought.  Then  he  looked  enviously  at  the 
strength  of  his  own  youthful  limbs  and 
shoulders;  with  all  his  love,  he  could  not 
give  away  an  hour's  use  of  them !  How 
almost  omnipotent  is  man's  spirit ;  how  im- 
potent his  tiesh!  Why  were  such  unkind 
mates  yoked  together  ? 

"  I  can  do  nothing  for  you !  "  said  Garth. 
"  I  would  do  anything." 

"  Come,  be  a  good  boy  !  "  exclaimed  his 
father,  with  playful  severity.  "  Else  I  shall 
think  that  I  have  been  able  to  do  nothing 
for  you,  though  I  have  been  willing  to  do  a 
great  deal!  " 

"  I  shall  be — alone,  if  you  go !  " 

"Who  said  I  was  going,  yet  awhile?  I 
mean  to  live  quite  as  long  as  you  or  anybody 
else  can  find  a  use  for  me.  Didn't  you  just 
tell  me  that  I  was  looking  better?  As  to 
your  being  alone,  I  doubt  whether  Provi- 
dence will  have  the  heart  to  condemn  you  to 
such  poor  company;  you  don't  seem  tome 
so  entirely  depraved  as  to  require  such  dis- 
cipline. No,  old  gentleman,  I  believe  you 
will  find  the  New- Year  a  happy  one,  before 
you  are  at  the  end  of  it.  I'll  venture  that 
prediction.  Now  get  out,  for  there  comes 
your  grandfather's  sleigh! " 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  something,"  said 
Garth,  pausing  and  looking  at  his  father. 
"  But  I'll  wait  till  to-morrow.  You  will  be 
at  leisure  then? " 

"  Yes,  I  shall  rest  to-morrow.  Farewel), 
beloved  Hottentot!  Give  my  love  to  Mrs. 
Tenterden  and — Elinor." 

When  Garth  got  down-stairs,  he  found 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Graeme  in  his  sleigh,  with 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  Elinor,  and  Madge. 

"I  won't  keep  'em  all,  Garth  lad," 
boomed  the  parson,  with  titanic  glee.  "  You 
can  take  one  of  'em ;  and  fill  her  place  with 
your  best  hamper. — Golightley,"  he  added, 
as  that  gentleman  made  his  appearance  at 


266 


GARTH. 


the  door,  "I  guess  you'd  better  hop  in  with 
Garth — he's  got  a  double  team  and  I  haven't. 
Don't  be  afraid,  boy;  we'll  handover  your 
belongings  to  you  when  we  get  there — haw, 
haw,  ho!" 

As  Garth  helped  Madge  to  alight,  he 
noticed  an  unusual  pallor  in  her  face. 

"You  look  tired,"  said  he. 

"  I  am  tired.  I  was  doubting  whether 
I'd  go." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  better  not.  You  know 
the  party  is  not  for  pleasure,  though  we 
pretend  so." 

"I've  a  great  mind  not  to  go!  "  she  mur- 
mured, looking  wistfully  at  him.  "  I'll  leave 
it  to  chance !  Let's  pull  straws :  if  you  draw 
the  longest  Til  stay." 

She  held  the  straws,  and  Garth  drew  the 
longest. 

"You  stay!" 

"It's  absurd!  I  won't  be  kept  back  by 
a  straw !  I'll  go !  "  she  exclaimed,  laughing. 

"If  you  wish  to  come  home  early,  I'll 
come  with  you." 

"  Oh,  if  I  go  I  shall  never  come  back !  " 
was  her  answer. 

When  every  one  was  seated,  and  the 
baskets  and  hampers  securely  stowed  away, 
Garth  gathered  up  his  reins  and  asked  the 
parson  if  he  were  ready. 

"Any  one  else  for  the  lake?"  bellowed 
the  reverend  gentleman,  directing  his  in- 
quiry at  the  darksome  front  of  Urmhurst. 

"  "What  a  pity  Mr.  Selwyn  didn't  come !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Tenterden.  "  He'd  enjoy  it 
so,  and  he's  so  lively !  " 

"All  the  lasses  are  taken  up,  so  far  as  I 
can  see  !  "  rejoined  the  parson,  mirthfully. 
"The  young  man  would  be  lonely,  ma'am!  " 

Elinor  felt  a  painful  embarrassment. 
When  changes  have  been  rapid  and  violent, 
they  appear  dreamlike  in  the  immediate  ret- 
rospect. Was  Golightley  really  forever  dis- 
connected with  her  future  ?  Had  she  really 
listened  to  Jack,  and  half  yielded  to  him  ? 
If  so,  why  must  the  old  appearances,  now 
vacant  of  life  and  truth,  still  be  observed  ? 
Why  was  it  that  the  forms  of  the  social 
world  must  always  be  under  the  control  of 
the  more  shallow-minded  and  short-sighted? 
Mrs.  Tenterden  and  the  parson  represented 
the  conventionalism  of  society,  before  which 


all  individual  tumult  and  emotion  must 
be  still.  They  saw  according  to  the  letter, 
not  the  spirit ;  and  for  their  sakes  all  that 
was  real  and  living  must  be  disguised  and 
stifled. 

As  they  drove  away,  Elinor  happened  to 
catch  Garth's  eyes,  and  fancied  she  discerned 
a  smile  in  them — though  whether  of  sym- 
pathy or  of  irony,  or  of  something  else,  she 
could  not  decide.  Be  it  what  it  might,  she 
flushed  resentfully,  and  thereafter  sheltered 
herself  behind  a  haughty  reserve;  which, 
perhaps,  was  the  best  attitude  of  which  the 
circumstances  admitted. 

Sam  Kineo,  who  had  heard  the  parson's 
stentorian  query,  and  had  mentally  respond- 
ed to  it,  crawled  stealthily  to  the  attic-win- 
dow, and,  peeping  forth,  saw  the  sleighs  dis- 
appear amid  the  naked  forest. 

"I'll  give  them  a  surprise  to-night!  "  he 
muttered  to  himself,  as  he  gazed  after  them. 
"  If  they  think  I'm  going  t'  sneak  off  with 
my  tail  between  my  legs,  they're  mistaken  ! 
Those  village  fools  shall  have  a  sight  of  Sam 
Kineo  before  he  goes !  If  'twasn't  for  that 
pretty  little  she-devil  of  mine,  I'd  let  'em 
have  something  more  than  a  sight — curse 
'em  all!  but  she  can't  fight  'nd  run,  as  I 
could :  never  mind  !  we  got  the  best  of  'em 
all ;  'nd  Garth  '11  find  I  took  the  interest  on 
my  legacy,  before  he  gets  home  to-night!  " 
Solacing  himself  with  these  reflections,  Mr. 
Kineo  withdrew  to  his  bower,  and  began 
the  preparations  for  his  departure.  He  felt 
that  his  star  was  once  more  in  the  ascendant, 
and  longed  to  celebrate  the  occasion  by  do- 
ing something  memorable.  Had  he  not  rec- 
ognized that  the  success  of  his  ultimate  es- 
cape and  immunity  was  dependent  upon  his 
forbearing  to  commit  any  intolerable  out- 
rage, he  might  have  been  tempted,  in  the 
gayety  of  his  heart,  to  set  Urmhurst  on  fire, 
or  to  take  terrible  advantage  of  the  loneli- 
ness of  Mr.  Urmson.  But  he  felt  that  such 
indulgences  would  be  not  merely  foolhardy, 
but  suicidal ;  especially  as  in  Xikomis  he  had 
a  suspicious  and  vigilant  overseer.  lie  had 
never  succeeded  in  appeasing  the  resentment 
of  this  grim  old  witch,  who  might  have 
served  him  so  well ;  and  it  had  been  owing 
chiefly  to  her  that  his  departure  had  been  so 
much  delayed.  He  therefore  resigned  him- 


QUESTIONS  AND   ANSWERS. 


207 


self  to  inoffensiveness,  tempered  by  the  de- 
termination to  make  up  for  it  whenever 
circumstances  should  give  him  a  chance ; 
and  in  this  mood  he  lit  his  pipe,  opened  his 
organ-box,  and  gave  his  attention  to  the 
selection  of  an  outfit  for  his  journey. 


CHAPTER  LXXVII. 

QUESTIONS    AXD    AXSWERS. 

MEANWHILE  the  party  arrived  at  the  lake, 
it  being  then  about  noon,  and  found  a  mul- 
titude of  the  village-folks  already  in  posses- 
sion, and  flying  hither  and  thither  over  the 
ice  in  all  directions.  Having  reached  the 
islet  and  stabled  the  horses,  Garth  began  the 
construction  of  the  big  bonfire,  and  sent  a 
dozen  or  so  of  the  younger  gentry  in  quest 
of  fagots  and  kindlings.  They  accepted  the 
job  with  enthusiasm,  one  small  boy,  with  a 
huge  red  tippet  wound  round  his  head  and 
body,  showing  himself  especially  energetic 
and  untiring;  he  was  a  member  of  Madge's 
Sunday-school  class,  and  was  perhaps  stimu- 
lated to  such  exertions  by  a  secret  passion 
for  his  mistress.  In  a  short  time  there  was 
material  enough  collected  to  last  through- 
out the  day;  and  Garth,  having  built  up  a 
lofty  superstructure  of  scientifically-adjusted 
twigs,  boughs,  and  fragments  of  decayed 
stumps,  took  some  paper  and  a  match  from 
his  pocket  and  deftly  set  the  whole  pile  on 
fire.  "  That  ought  to  burn  well :  the  kin- 
dling was  good!  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 
And  it  did  burn  gloriously.  There  was  no 
wind,  and  the  flame  rose  straight  upward, 
until  it  ended  in  a  thick  column  of  smoke 
which  might  have  been  visible  twenty  miles 
away.  The  buffalo-robes  and  blankets  were 
now  brought  from  the  sleighs,  and  seats 
were  arranged  for  Mrs.  Tenterden  and  the 
parson,  where  they  might  at  once  keep 
warm  and  have  a  view  of  all  that  was  going 
on.  Golightley,  although  he  had  brought 
with  him  a  highly-ornamental  pair  of  foreign 
skates,  with  some  kind  of  patent  fastenings, 
declined  taking  an  active  part  in  the  amuse- 
ment ;  he  remained  near  the  fire,  replenishing 
it  with  fresh  fuel  from  time  to  time,  and  re- 
sponding to  the  sallies  of  his  two  companions. 


Madge,  as  she  had  foretold,  was  dressed 
]  in  a  costume  which  closely  copied  Elinor's, 
insomuch  that  at  a  short  distance  one  might 
easily  have  been  mistaken  for  the  other. 
Madge,  however,  was  an  accomplished 
skater,  while  Elinor  could  do  little  more 
than  move  about,  with  no  attempt  at  curves 
and  flourishes.  Skating  had  not  at  that  time 
such  vogue  among  women  as  it  has  since 
acquired;  but  neither  then  nor  since  have 
there  been  many  who  could  show  such 
graceful  mastery  over  the  art  as  Madge. 
She  loved  it  as  she  loved  dancing,  and  it  dis- 
played her  physical  beauty  and  adroitness 
to  at  least  as  good  advantage  as  did  the  lat- 
ter exercise.  Moreover,  she  was  as  tireless 
on  her  skates  as  she  was  skillful,  and  could 
keep  in  motion  for  hours  at  a  stretch,  with- 
out any  appearance  of  fatigue. 

Garth,  likewise,  had  complete  command 
over  his  motions  upon  the  ice,  and  the  com- 
pactness of  his  figure  enabled  him  to  per- 
form evolutions  which  were  the  despair  of 
many  a  longer-limbed  rival.  When  he  and 
Madge  skated  off  together,  therefore,  there 
was  a  general  disposition  to  applause  among 
the  beholders ;  and  the  small  boy  with  the 
red  tippet  was  generous  enough  to  ignore 
unworthy  jealousy,  and  give  utterance  to  his 
unselfish  admiration  in  a  cheer.  Not  being, 
however,  so  familiar  with  the  mysteries  of 
poise  and  balance  as  with  the  exercise  of  the 
nobler  emotions,  his  cheer  whirled  him  over 
backward,  and  bumped  his  head  unmerciful- 
ly. When  the  throes  of  physical  anguish 
had  subsided  sufficiently  to  allow  of  his  sit- 
ting up  and  and  taking  conscious  note  of 
earthly  things,  he  descried  Madge  far  away, 
swinging  in  easy  curves,  regardless  of  his 
pain.  His  heart  swelled  within  him  as  he 
gazed ;  from  manly  pride  he  had  forborne  to 
weep  thus  far;  but  there  are  bumps  and 
bumps!  As  he  tottered  dejectedly  to  his 
feet,  and  scrambled  away  toward  solitude, 
salt  tears  were  freezing  upon  his  cheeks,  and 
his  heart  was  embittered  against  the  seduc- 
tions of  Sunday-school. 

After  Garth  and  Madge  had  made  the 
circuit  of  the  lake,  they  paused  where,  at  its 
southern  extremity,  it  merged  into  the  river. 
Presently  she  said : 

"Garth,  will  you  take  my  hand,  now, 


268 


GARTH. 


and  skate  down  there,  away  and  away,  as 
far  as  we  can  see — ever  so  far  beyond  Wa- 
beno  ?  and  then  get  on  board  a  ship  and  sail 
to  Europe — O  Garth!  and  live  there?  "Will 
you  do  that  with  me? " 

"If  we  had  the  Eve  legacy,  we  might!  " 

"  Well — what  if  I  did  have  it,  in  my 
pocket,  now? " 

"If  this  were  the  first  of  the  New-Year, 
instead  of  Christmas-eve,  you  might  have 
had  it — that  is,  if  Kineo  had  not  come.  His 
right  to  claim  it  would  have  ended  with  this 
year." 

"  Then  I  wish  he  had  never  come  !  But 
Garth — it  is  not  too  late !  Let  him  be  taken 
— both  of  them!  It  would  be  right!  and 
then  we  should  be  free !  "Will  you,  Garth 
Urmson  ? " 

She  spoke  with  a  sudden  flash  of  excite- 
ment, that  made  Garth's  own  blood  tingle. 
What  she  suggested  might  be  done,  and  pub- 
lic opinion,  justice,  and  the  law,  would  bear 
him  out  in  it.  And  he  and  Madge  needed 
freedom:  how  easy  to  grasp  it!  The  world 
would  lie  before  them — for  a  time,  at  least ; 
all  that  was  irksome  in  the  ties  that  held 
them  to  each  other  would  be  forgotten  in 
the  warm  flood  of  the  life  that  they  might 
live.  Madge's  hand  was  in  his;  her  look 
was  upon  him ;  she  awaited  his  decision. 
On  his  next  words  hung  their  future.  He 
wheeled  about ;  she  saw  the  light  in  his 
eyes. 

"You  will  do  it!"  she  cried,  in  a  low 
tone  of  triumph.  u  That  saves  me !  " 

He  paused  a  moment;  then  the  light 
sank  back. 

"I  won't  do  it!"  he  said,  harshly  and 
abruptly. 

The  harshness  was  not  for  her,  but  for 
his  own  infirmity ;  but  she  could  not  know 
that.  Their  hands  dropped  apart :  her  vivid 
face  darkened. 

"  You  are  a  strange  creature,  Garth  Urm- 
son. You  think  every  one  has  rights  but 
me.  Heigho! — Well,  let  us  go  back,  then. 
It's  time  you  were  at  work,  catching  your 
fish." 

They  skated  back  to  the  islet  slowly  and 
in  silence ;  and  for  the  next  two  hours  Garth 
worked  like  a  Titan.  First,  with  the  sharp 
ice-hatchet  that  he  carried  at  his  belt,  he  cut 


a  score  or  so  of  holes  through  the  ice,  twen- 
ty feet  apart,  in  straight  rows.  Beside  each 
of  these  he  set  up  a  little  rod,  made  of  the 
twig  of  a  birch-tree,  with  a  line  attached  to 
it,  whereby  a  baited  hook  was  let  down  to 
the  depths  below.  These  preparations  being 
finished,  the  fun  began.  Wherever  a  rod 
bent,  the  fisherman  to  whose  charge  it  had 
been  intrusted  must  grasp  the  line,  and  haul 
up  whatever  was  at  the  other  end  of  it. 
Women  as  well  as  men  took  part  in  this 
sport ;  even  Mrs.  Tenterden  laughingly  per- 
mitted herself  to  be  established  beside  one  of 
the  holes,  though  she  was  too  busy  with  be- 
ing amused  at  the  exploits  of  others  to  pay 
any  attention  to  her  own  business.  Fish 
were  plentiful,  and  before  long  more  than 
enough  for  the  chowder  had  been  caught, 
chiefly  perch  and  trout.  At  length  word 
was  given  to  pull  up  all  the  lines;  and  it 
was  not  till  then  that  Mrs.  Tenterden  was 
heard  to  complain  that  she  thought  hers 
must  have  got  caught  in  something :  the  rod 
had  been  broken  down,  and  only  saved  from 
being  drawn  under  by  falling  across  the  hole, 
in  which  position  it  stuck  fast.  Garth  took 
hold  of  the  line,  and  perceiving  at  once  that 
something  unusual  was  the  matter,  hauled 
away  with  all  his  might.  In  a  few  moments 
out  flounced  a  huge  pike,  three  feet  long, 
which  snapped  its  horrid  jaws  at  Mrs.  Ten- 
terden in  so  bloodthirsty  a  manner  that  the 
good  lady  sent  forth  a  scream  which  brought 
everybody  on  the  pond  pell-mell  to  the  spot. 
When  the  cause  of  her  alarm  became  known, 
there  arose  a  multitudinous  roar  of  laugh- 
ter; amid  which  Garth  attacked  and  slew 
the  "sockdolager,"  as  the  parson  called  it. 
cleaned  it,  and  flung  it  into  the  chowder- 
kettle. 

When  the  chowder  was  cooked,  it  was 
ladled  out  into  tin  bowls,  and  so  handed 
around  to  be  eaten  with  iron  spoons.  Garth 
took  his  seat  by  Elinor,  and  they  chatted  to- 
gether about  diverse  indifferent  matters,  un- 
til he  said : 

"  Jack  Selwyn  is  the  only  friend  I  ever 
made,  and  he  tells  me  secrets  he  would  tell 
no  one  else.  I  saw  him  yesterday,  and  he 
told  me  what  I  was  glad  to  hear,  for  your 
sake  as  well  as  his." 

"  He  did  not  say  that  I — we — " 


QUESTIONS  AND  ANSWERS. 


269 


"  No,  no !  he  didn't  magnify  his  hopes. 
You  will  find  it  possible  to  be  kinder  to  him 
than  you  think  you  can  be  now.  He  loves 
you;  and,  when  you  know  him  better,  you 
can't  help  loving  him  !  " 

Here  there  was  an  interruption,  and  Eli- 
nor was  left  to  her  reflections.  That  Garth 
should  have  congratulated  her  on  the  new 
step  she  had  taken,  affected  her  oddly.  It 
was  as  if  some  one  from  whom,  by  a  desper- 
ate effort,  she  had  escaped,  had  suddenly  ap- 
peared beside  her,  serene  and  kind,  and  given 
her  joy  on  the  success  of  her  attempt.  She 
wondered  whether  he  would  have  spoken  so 
calmly  had  ho  known  what  others  knew 
about  Madge  :  she  wondered — even  while 
taking  shame  to  herself  for  so  doing.  Per- 
haps he  did  know :  evidently  he  was  aware 
of  his  uncle's  guilt,  and  so  why  not  of  other 
things  ?  But,  again,  what  was  said  of  Madge 
might  not  be  true;  the  worst  part  of  it,  at 
least,  might  not  be.  She  and  Garth  might 
fully  understand  each  other.  "Who  could  say  ? 
and  yet — Elinor  could  not  bring  herself  to 
believe  it ! 

At  this  point,  however,  she  was  reminded 
of  the  promise  she  had  made  to  herself  the 
day  before,  bearing  upon  this  very  matter. 
If  Madge — supposing  her  to  have  formed  any 
such  scheme  as  Jack  had  imputed  to  her — 
could  be  persuaded  to  relinquish  it  for  that 
which  Elinor  had  to  offer,  might  not  all  be 
well  between  her  and  Garth  even  yet,  and 
Elinor  the  cause  ? 

Ah !  but  the  task  was  a  hard  and  ungrate- 
ful one,  and  Elinor,  now  that  she  was  face 
to  face  with  it,  could  not  help  shrinking. 
She  lacked  the  flow  of  persuasive  speech 
which  seems  to  render  such  intercessions 
easy  to  some  people;  and  here  she  might 
hesitate  on  other  grounds  than  those  of  per- 
sonal unfitness.  Not  only  would  it  in  no  way 
help  Elinor's  interest  to  meddle  with  Madge, 
but  Garth  (if  the  opinion  of  those  who  knew 
him  best  could  be  trusted)  might  be  the 
worse  instead  of  the  better  off  were  Madge 
secured  to  him.  Was  it  not  more  reverent 
as  well  as  more  prudent  to  let  Providence 
work  out  its  own  ends  in  its  own  way,  with- 
out any  impertinent  interference? 

Elinor  would  have  been  glad  to  have  felt 
satisfied  of  this.  But  the  more  she  strove 


to  be  so,  the  more  persistently  did  certain 
stubborn  questions  force  themselves  upon 
her.  If  Madge  were  ruined  for  lack  of  any 
argument  or  effort  which  Elinor  could  havo 
used,  would  not  the  responsibility  lie  at  Eli- 
nor's door  ?  Did  not  all  women  owe  a  sa- 
cred duty  to  their  sisters  who  were  in  peril  ? 
Was  any  earthly  gain  or  loss  worthy  to  be 
set  against  that  duty  ? 

Elinor  got  impulsively  to  her  feet,  and 
looked  about  her.  Madge  was  at  some  dis- 
tance upon  the  ice,  teaching  the  small  boy 
with  the  red  tippet  the  mysteries  of  the  out- 
side edge.  Elinor  came  up  behind  them  and 
said  to  her : 

"  Won't  you  give  me  a  lesson,  too  ?  "  and 
took  her  other  hand. 

Madge  looked  surprised  and  on  her  guard, 
but  offered  no  objection,  and  they  skated  off 
together,  leaving  the  boy  again  forlorn. 

"  You  see  it's  very  easy,"  Madge  ob- 
served ;  "  but  I  suppose  you  don't  have 
many  chances  to  skate  in  Europe  ?  " 

"Not  many.  Would  you  like  to  goto 
Europe?" 

It  was  several  moments  before  Madge  an- 
swered— 

"  I  mean  to  go,  some  day !  " 

"  But  would  you  like  to  go  soon — with 
us?" 

There  was  another  pause ;  Madge  let  go 
Elinor's  hand  and  glided  along  beside  her 
with  a  serpentine  movement. 

"Does  your  future  husband  authorize 
that  invitation  ? " 

"  I  meant  with  me  and  Mrs.  Tenterden. 
I  have  not  told  you  that  we  have  got  back 
most  of  our  fortune.  I  shall  not  be  married." 

Madge  swept  about  and  looked  in  Elinor's 
face.  "So  Jack  Selwyn  has  let  out  the  se- 
cret, has  he  ? " 

"  It  was  Golightley  who  told  me,  Madge." 

"  But  what  a  funny  invitation !  "  rejoined 
the  other,  with  a  soft  laugh.  "Is  this  to 
part  Garth  and  me  ?  or  is  Garth  to  be  of  the 
party  ?  or — would  not  Garth  do  without 
me?" 

Elinor  flushed  with  indignation,  and  was 
half  resolved  to  leave  Madge  to  her  fate. 
But  her  better  will  still  overcame. 

"I  thought  you  might  like  to  see  the 
world  before  you  were  married.  Wo  could 


270 


GARTH. 


bring  you  to  the  things  and  people  that 
would  give  you  most  pleasure.  You  should 
go  where  your  beauty  and  talent  would  be 
best  acknowledged.  It  would  be  better  than 
for  you  to  go  in — in  almost  any  other  way !  " 

"But  why  do  you  ask  ine?"  repeated 
Madge,  coldly. 

"O  Madge!  because  you  are  a  woman, 
and  I  am  a  woman :  and  no  other  woman 
knows  what  I  know  about  you — what  I 
found  out  by  chance.  I  want  to  be  a  sister 
to  you,  if  you  will  let  me !  I  have  felt  what 
it  is  to  be  alone  and  in  trouble — and  in 
temptation!  I  longed  for  some  one  who 
would  speak  to  me  and  be  kind  to  me.  And 
though  I  can  do  so  little  for  you,  Madge — 
still,  if  you  will  believe  that  I  speak  from  no 
selfish  motive,  I  might  do  something!  " 

Madge's  expression  abated  somewhat  of 
its  hardness  and  incredulity,  and  she  said 
more  gently : 

"  You  have  never  seemed  friendly  to  me 
before." 

"  I  know  it — I  -was  -wrapped  up  in  myself. 
And  you  never  seemed  to  need  a  friend  be- 
fore. I  do  want  to  be  your  friend  now  !  " 

Madge  cast  down  her  eyes  and  was  silent. 
But  suddenly  she  looked  up  and  asked : 

"Ought  I  to  marry  Garth?  " 

Elinor  hesitated:  was  Madge  testing  her 
sincerity?  But  even  to  gain  her  end  she 
could  not  prevaricate. 

"Not  unless  you  love  him,"  said  she. 

"  Come !  "  said  Madge,  holding  out  her 
hand  again.  Presently  she  continued  :  "  You 
do  seem  honest ;  and,  if  you  are  honest,  yon 
are  very  kind!  But  you  mustn't  think  I 
would  do  anything  foolish — put  myself  in 
any  one's  power.  Perhaps  I  don't  mean  to 
marry  Garth ;  but,  then,  I  know  now  what  I 
did  not  know  a  month  ago — that  he  does 
not  care  for  me !  He  would  marry  me  from 
a  sense  of  duty — which  I  hate!  I  don't  ex- 
pect to  die  of  a  broken  heart  about  it ;  and 
yet  I  don't  believe  there's  another  man  in 
the  world  so  well  worth  loving  as  Garth 
TJrmson !  Don't  forget  I  said  that,  Elinor ! 
—But  I'm  not  fit  for  him.  He  is  all  that  I 
admire  in  a  man,  but  he  is  so  much  more 
besides,  that  my  part  is  crowded  out  of 
sight.  So  I  should  be  happier  with  a  lesser 
man — one  more  like  Jack  Selwyn,  maybe  ! 


only  Jack  happens  to  hate  me  (he  has  some 
reason  to),  and  to  be  in  love  with  somebody 
else.  Can  you  guess  with  whom  ? " 

She  smiled  as  she  put  the  question,  and 
added  immediately,  "But  don't  have  him, 
Elinor !  "  Then  she  pressed  her  hand  a  little 
closer  and  said,  hurriedly: 

"  I  will  prove  that  I  thank  you  for  having 
wished  to  be  kind  to  me.  I  will  tell  you  a 
most  precious  secret.  Garth  Urmson  loves 
you — he  has  loved  you  ever  since  he  first 
saw  you !  Yon  must  do  the  rest." 

As  she  spoke  the  last  words,  Madge 
curved  aside  with  a  graceful  impulse,  and 
was  gone.  Elinor  stood  overwhelmed  with 
thick- crowding  thoughts.  She  needed  to  be 
alone.  But  all  at  once  a  voice  close  behind 
called  out: 

"  Miss  Danver !  " 

Elinor  looked  round.  It  was  the  small 
boy. 

"  Oh,  yon  ain't  she !  "  he  exclaimed  star- 
ing. "  I  guessed  you  was  Miss  Danver !  Want 
her  to  learn  me  some  more  outside  edge!  " 

He  scrambled  away  disappointed.  Eli- 
nor now  reflected  that  Madge  had  returned 
no  definite  answer  to  her  proposal.  Did  she 
mean  to  refuse  it?  or  was  she  revolving  the 
question  in  her  mind?  Elinor  looked  across 
the  surface  of  the  frozen  lake,  glistening  be- 
neath the  pink  light  of  sunset  clouds,  but 
the  beautiful  skater  was  not  in  sight. 

"  She  shall  sit  beside  me  as  we  go  home," 
was  her  thought,  "  and  then  I  shall  know." 


CHAPTER  LXXYIII. 

SOXG   AKD    FEOLIC. 

THE  sun  had  by  this  time  gone  down, 
amid  a  splendid  wilderness  of  crimson  and 
gold,  scarlet  and  green ;  and,  though  the 
moon  had  risen,  dusk  came  on  apace,  for  the 
sky  to  the  east  was  clouded.  The  great 
bonfire  was  soon  the  centre  of  illumination  ; 
its  red  light  gleamed  along  the  ice,  and  the 
shadows  of  those  who  stood  near  it  stretched 
out  in  dark  rays,  until  they  were  blended 
with  the  outer  gloom.  And  out  of  that 
gloom  figures  came  gliding  up  swiftly,  and 
away  again ;  like  strange  beings  from  an- 


SONG  AND  FROLIC. 


271 


other  world,  making  themselves  visible  for  a 
moment  in  the  light  of  this,  and  then  vanish- 
ing for  evermore.  As  the  night  still  deep- 
ened, the  surrounding  darkness  seemed  to 
creep  nearer,  growing  ever  vaster  and  more 
mysterious  to  the  imagination ;  so  that  the 
great  roaring  bonfire  was  none  too  great  or 
too  ardent,  since  it  was  the  only  source  of 
life  and  warmth  left  to  mankind. 

At  length  Golightley  made  a  request  that 
Elinor  should  sing.  It  was  almost  the  first 
time  he  had  addressed  her  that  day — a  fact 
which  Mrs.  Tenterden  had  observed,  and 
she  had  not  spared  to  rally  Elinor  and  him 
on  what  she  called  their  lovers'  quarrel. 
Nor  did  she  fail  laughingly  to  regard  this  re- 
quest of  his  as  the  first  step  toward  a  rec- 
onciliation. But  to  Elinor  it  had  another 
meaning.  Golightley  had  always  shown  un- 
bounded admiration  for  her  powers  of  song; 
and  now,  at  this  last  moment,  as  it  were, 
of  their  being  together,  he  was  asking,  for  a 
parting  gift,  that  only  part  of  her  which  she 
need  not  hesitate  to  grant  him.  There  was 
something  pathetic  to  her  in  the  petition ; 
and  as  she  prepared  to  fulfill  it,  what  re- 
mained in  her  heart  of  bitterness  toward  him 
passed  away,  and  womanly  compassion  alone 
was  left. 

She  stood  up  beside  the  fire,  and  with  her 
hands  folded  in  her  muff  and  her  eyes  upon 
the  darkness,  she  began  one  of  those  sweet, 
pathetic  ballads  which  delight  uncultivated 
ears  as  well  as  those  that  know  true  music. 
As  she  sang,  a  semicircle  of  auditors  col- 
lected on  the  ice  before  her,  continually  aug- 
menting in  numbers,  until  every  skater  on 
the  lake  was  there.  A  wide,  open  space 
was  nevertheless  maintained  between  her 
and  them ;  and  every  sound  except  the  sing- 
er's voice  was  hushed.  Presently  Elinor 
noticed,  in  the  front  rank  directly  opposite 
her,  the  small  boy  in  the  red  tippet,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  mouth  wide 
open.  Golightley,  she  knew,  was  standing 
not  far  away  on  her  right,  his  face  shaded 
by  his  hand.  The  others  of  her  party  were 
behind  her  —  save  that  twice  or  thrice, 
and  on  each  occasion  in  a  different  part 
of  the  semicircle  of  listeners,  she  caught — 
or  fancied  that  she  caught  —  a  glimpse  of 
Madge. 


The  song  came  to  an  end ;  but,  in  the 
pause  and  silence  which  followed  the  last 
verse,  a  new  and  strange  figure  suddenly 
swept  upon  the  scene :  as  wild  in  his  aspect 
and  movements  as  any  night-goblin  of  fairy- 
lore.  In  figure  he  was  tall,  symmetrical,  and 
athletic,  and  his  graceful  proportions  were 
well  set  off  by  the  close-fitting  fur-trimmed 
suit  he  wore.  Round  his  waist  was  twisted 
a  scarlet,  silken  scarf,  whoso  long,  fringed 
ends  waved  outward  as  he  moved ;  and 
there  was  a  bunch  of  scarlet  feathers  in  his 
cap.  His  black  hair  hung  below  his  ears ; 
his  face  was  swarthy,  and  appeared,  in  the 
uncertain  light,  to  possess  a  sombre  and  sat- 
urnine kind  of  beauty.  Such  an  apparition 
had  never  been  seen  on  the  lake  before ;  and 
the  group  of  auditors,  now  changed  to  spec- 
tators, with  one  accord  widened  out,  so  as 
to  leave  him  ample  space  in  which  to  cut  his 
strange,  fantastic  capers. 

Certainly  it  can  seldom  be  the  lot  of  hu- 
man eyes  to  behold  such  unearthly  gambols 
as  were  here  displayed.  The  mysterious 
skater  seemed  to  be  superior  to  ordinary 
physical  laws.  Freedom  and  boldness  are 
not  terms  competent  to  describe  the  amaz- 
ing recklessness  with  which  he  tossed  him- 
self to  and  fro,  in  and  out,  now  backward, 
now  forward,  weaving  inextricable  patterns 
and  wheeling  out  swift  circles,  all  with  as 
much  inimitable  poise,  ease,  and  finish,  as  if 
he  could  lean  upon  the  air  and  be  supported 
by  it.  Meanwhile,  the  red  firelight  and  the 
black  shadow  played  over  him  so  bewilder- 
ingly  as  to  render  any  deliberate  scrutiny  of 
him  impossible.  To  many  who  saw  him  he 
was  a  presence  half  supernatural,  and  no 
one  seemed  to  know  whence  he  came  or 
wherefore. 

"Good  mercy,  what  is  it?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Tenterden,  at  last.  "  I  declare  it  looks 
like  a  wild  creature  !  " 

"  It's  the  champion  ckater  of  the  world !  " 
replied  Garth,  who  had  been  watching  the 
exhibition  with  an  expression  of  mingled  an- 
noyance and  amusement.  "  Do  you  wish  me 
to  present  him  to  you  ? " 

"  Good  gracious  alive !  "  cried  the  lady, 
drawing  her  ample  shoulders  together  with 
a  shudder  of  dismay;  "it  would  just  scare 
me  out  of  my  life !  Why,  I'd  as  soon  think 


272 


GAETH. 


of  being  introduced  to  a  mountebank  in  a 
circus!  " 

While  this  short  conversation  was  going 
on,  Elinor,  who  had  remained  standing  pre- 
cisely where  she  had  first  taken  up  her  posi- 
tion, saw  Madge  press  through  the  outer 
ring  of  on-lookers,  and  beckon  to  her  with 
head  and  hand.  Fearful  of  she  knew  not 
what,  she  slipped  quietly  aside,  and,  skirting 
along  the  exterior  of  the  groups,  came  at 
length  to  the  point  at  which  Madge  had  ap- 
peared. But  Madge  was  no  longer  there. 

Just  then  the  unknown  skater,  who 
heretofore  had  been  as  voiceless  as  he  was 
mysterious,  gave  utterance  to  a  wild,  ringing 
yell,  at  the  same  time  urging  himself  at  daz- 
zling speed  round  the  limits  of  his  arena. 
The  unexpectedness  of  the  outcry  and  action 
caused  a  kind  of  panic;  the  ring  broke  up 
in  confusion;  and  almost  immediately  the 
skater  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Elinor, 
however,  had  seen  him  a  moment  later  than 
most  of  the  others.  As  she  stood  alone  a 
little  way  out  upon  the  lake,  looking  vainly 
for  some  sign  of  Madge,  she  had  felt  her  arm 
suddenly  seized,  and  on  turning  found  herself 
confronted  by  the  swarthy,  sinister,  hand- 
some face,  with  its  red-feathered  cap  and 
long,  black  hair.  Before  she  had  time  to 
feel  alarmed,  he  had  turned  quickly  behind 
her  and  made  off;  and,  but  for  the  impress 
of  his  long  fingers  on  her  arm,  she  might  al- 
most have  taken  the  episode  for  a  swift  hal- 
lucination. Be  it  what  it  might,  it  did  not 
lessen  her  anxiety  on  Madge's  account,  and 
she  still  continued  her  search  for  her,  passing 
to  and  fro,  sometimes  coming  within  range 
of  the  firelight,  and  again  returning  to  the 
shadow.  Often  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
recognized  the  familiar  grace  of  the  lost  fig- 
ure swaying  in  easy  evolutions  a  long  way 
off;  but,  when  she  reached  the  spot,  either 
the  appearance  had  vanished,  or  it  turned 
out  to  be  some  other  than  Madge.  Had 
Mephistopheles  snatched  her  away  with  him 
into  irredeemable  darkness? 

At  length,  after  nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  absence,  she  returned  with  growing 
apprehensions  to  the  fireside.  The  parson 
was  relating  some  humorous  incident  of  sev- 
enty years  ago,  to  which  Mrs.  Tenterden 
was  listening  with  good-natured  chucklings; 


Garth  had  gone  to  the  shed  to  give  his 
horses  a  feed  of  hay,  and  what  had  become 
of  Golightley  no  one  knew. 

"  Why,  daughter,  I  thought  he'd  gone  off 
with  you,  to  finish  up  the  reconciliation," 
said  Mrs.  Tenterden.  "I  should  have  been 
after  you  myself,  before  now,  if  I'd  known 
you  were  alone,  and  that  wild  creature  rush- 
ing about ! " 

"  I've  been  looking  everywhere  for 
Madge,"  returned  Elinor,  impatiently. 
"Have  you  seen  her  lately  ? " 

"Maggie?  why,  yes,  to  be  sure  I  have!  '* 
was  the  comfortable  answer.  "  She  was  out 
there  in  plain  sight  not  three  minutes  ago, 
and  we've  seen  her,  off  and  on,  ever  since 
that  horrid  creature  went  away." 

Greatly  relieved  by  this  information,  Eli- 
nor sat  down  on  a  buffalo-robe  beside  the 
fire,  and  began  to  realize,  for  the  first  time, 
how  tired  she  was.  The  fear  of  danger  be- 
ing removed,  she  could  rally  herself  on  the 
folly  of  having  admitted  it.  An  air  of  com- 
fort and  security  dwelt  within  the  little  cir- 
cle of  firelight,  entirely  inconsistent  with 
any  evil  apprehension.  Thus  five  minutes 
passed  away.  Then,  all  at  once  a  thought 
flashed  into  Elinor's  mind  that  brought  her 
to  her  feet  with  a  start.  Garth  had  just 
left  the  horses  and  was  coming  toward 
her.  She  led  him  a  little  way  out  upon  the 
ice. 

"Have  you  seen  Madge?  "  was  her  ques- 
tion. 

"  Yes — before  I  went  to  feed  the  horses." 

"  Who  was  that  —  who  was  skating 
here  ? " 

"  Oh — you  mean  the  champion  skater  of 
the  world?  "  said  he,  smiling. 

"WasitSamKineo?" 

Surprised  by  the  vehemence  of  her  man- 
ner, Garth  admitted  that  it  was.  "He  is 
gone  now,"  he  added,  "for  good!  But  it 
was  to  have  been  a  secret,  and  had  better  bo 
kept  a  while  longer.  It  was  a  piece  of  his 
melodramatic  nonsense,  showing  himself  in 
that  way.  We  had  especially  arranged  for 
him  to  get  off  secretly." 

"I'm  afraid  something  has  happened," 
replied  Elinor,  with  a  trembling  which  she 
could  not  repress.  "Madge's  dress  and 
mine  are  alike — I'm  afraid  you  mistook  me 


GRIM   EARNEST. 


273 


for  her.  I  looked  for  her  everywhere,  and 
could  not  find  her.  If — " 

"  Well,  I  guessed  you  couldn't  be  Miss 
Danver  this  time ! "  exclaimed  a  voice  be- 
side her  —  the  voice  of  a  small  boy.  "I 
guess  even  she  couldn't  skate  quick  enough 
to  be  back  here  'fore  I  was!  She  was  going 
t'other  way,  too !  " 

"Have  you  seen  Miss  Danver?"  asked 
Garth,  gently,  of  the  small  boy. 

"Yes,  but  she's  far  enough  off  by  this 
time,  I  guess,"  he  replied,  tucking  his  chin 
inside  the  fold  of  his  tippet.  "I  see  her; 
she  was  with  that  skater  chap  with  the  red 
feathers  in  his  cap.  They  was  goin'  it,  I 
tell  yer !  Way  down  there — way  down  'long 
the  river! " 

He  scrambled  away.  Garth  had  pulled 
on  his  gloves,  and  settled  his  cap  upon  his 
head.  He  and  Elinor  exchanged  a  look, 
brief  and  eloquent. 

"  Shall  you  take  no  one  with  you  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"No :  and  do  you  say  nothing.  If  I  can't 
do  it  alone,  there  is  no  help.  Get  the  peo- 
ple home  soon.  Good-by,  Elinor!  " 

"  Good-by ;  God  help  you,  Garth !  " 

She  stood  listening  to  the  ring  of  his  fly- 
ing skates  until  the  sound  was  no  longer 
audible,  and  he  himself  had  long  been  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  gloom.  Then  she  returned 
to  the  fire,  faint  and  sick  at  heart. 


CHAPTER  LXXIX. 

GRIM   EARNEST. 

THE  sky  was  overcast  with  great  clouds, 
but  at  intervals  the  moon  looked  forth  be- 
tween the  rifts,  and  filled  the  valley  with 
cold  radiance.  Garth,  as  he  swept  with 
flying  strokes  toward  the  south,  peered  in- 
tently into  the  gray  night  before  him ;  but 
the  changes  from  shadow  to  light,  and  back 
to  shadow  again,  were  more  perplexing  than 
constant  shadow  would  have  been.  It  was 
unlikely  that  he  would  see  those  whom  he 
pursued  until  he  was  close  upon  them ;  and, 
the  overflow  of  the  river  having  broadened 
it  to  nearly  half  a  mile,  he  had  to  /;uard 
against  the  risk  of  passing  them. 
13 


He  moved  with  great  velocity,  what  wind 
there  was  being  behind  him,  and  the  ice  per- 
fectly smooth :  but  he  knew  that  the  con- 
ditions were  as  favorable  for  the  fugitives 
as  for  him ;  and,  besides  their  long  start,  it 
was  certain  that  Kineo,  if  not  Madge,  could 
skate  as  fast  as  he.  On  the  other  hand,  they 
might  not  expect  the  pursuit  to  begin  so 
soon ;  and,  since  they  must  travel  all  night, 
they  would  be  apt  to  spare  themselves  as 
much  as  possible. 

In  former  years,  Garth  had  often  skated 
down  this  valley  from  end  to  end ;  and,  as 
he  now  mentally  rehearsed  the  route,  he  rec- 
ollected that  at  a  certain  point,  about  nine 
miles  below  the  lake,  the  dead  level  of  the 
meadows  was  interrupted  by  a  ridge,  lying 
at  right  angles  to  the  river,  and  through  the 
midst  of  which  the  current  had  forced  its 
way.  Here,  of  course,  the  stream  was  nar- 
rowed to  its  original  width,  and  flowed  with 
such  rapidity  over  a  rocky  bottom,  that  ice 
was  rarely  formed  even  in  the  coldest  win- 
ters. At  this  place,  known  in  the  neighbor- 
hood as  the  Bite,  there  was  a  wooden  bridge, 
the  only  one  for  twenty  miles;  and  here, 
Garth  hoped,  there  would  be  a  delay,  if  not 
an  actual  stoppage.  He  was  now,  as  he  cal- 
culated, about  three  miles  behind  the  fugi- 
tives :  but,  if  he  could  maintain  his  present 
pace,  there  was  some  chance  that  he  might 
come  up  with  them  either  there,  or  a  short 
way  beyond. 

As  he  sped  onward,  his  mind  involun- 
tarily busied  itself  with  a  review  of  his  rela- 
tions with  Madge  from  their  first  beginning. 
If,  as  it  was  hard  to  doubt,  she  was  a  willing 
companion  of  Kineo's  flight,  the  plot  must 
have  been  arranged,  in  one  form  or  another, 
long  ago.  They  must  have  been  in  commu- 
nication, not  only  since  the  half-breed  had 
been  concealed  at  Urmhurst,  but  during  all 
the  years  of  his  absence  abroad ;  and  that 
being  granted,  then  their  intimacy,  even  in 
childish  days,  must  have  been  far  closer  than 
Garth  had  ever  imagined  it  to  be.  In  that 
fight  of  his  with  Kineo  —  which  was  the 
opening  act  of  his  long  love-drama — must 
he  believe  that  Kineo,  and  not  he,  had  been 
in  the  right  ?  Recalling  each  one  of  Madge's 
well-remembered  looks  and  words  on  that 
mgat,  they  now  wore  a  new  aspect  and  sig- 


2T4 


GARTH, 


nificance.  Had  she  been  false  even  then  ? 
Had  he  been  made  a  fool  and  a  laughing- 
stock all  his  life  long?  The  blood  burned 
in  his  cheeks  at  the  thought,  and  his  eyes 
sought  fiercely  through  the  gloom.  The 
hour  of  reckoning  had  come !  He  flew  on- 
ward like  the  very  spirit  of  retribution,  and 
the  hollow  ice  resounded  beneath  his  steel- 
shod  feet. 

Hitherto  he  had  not  considered  how  he 
would  deal  with  the  fugitives  when  over- 
taken :  but  now  the  question  arose  whether 
Madge,  having  dared  such  a  step  as  this, 
would  return  at  his  command?  or  whether 
Kineo  would  easily  relinquish  her?  Garth, 
however,  was  not  in  a  mood  nicely  to  bal- 
ance doubts  and  probabilities.  All  the  im- 
perious, relentless  temper  of  the  hot-hearted 
Urmsons  was  throbbing  within  him.  Ven- 
geance was  his — he  would  repay!— or,  if 
God's,  then  was  he  God's  chosen  instru- 
ment! There  should  be  no  parleying  nor 
pitying;  of  that  there  had  been  too  much 
already.  As  for  Kineo,  he  had  come  to  the 
end  of  his  tether :  his  punishment  should  be 
quick  and  final.  Any  other  man  than  Garth 
would  have  said,  "Either  I  or  my  enemy 
must  perish !  "  But  Garth  did  not  admit 
the  alternative.  The  might  of  his  passion 
made  him  invulnerable  and  irresistible.  He 
could  not  perish  nntil  he  had  worked  his 
will.  He  felt  in  his  belt,  where  hung  the 
small,  sharp  ice-hatchet  which  he  had  that 
morning  used  for  cutting  fishing-holes.  It 
was  his  only  weapon :  but  his  purpose  was 
deadly  enough  without  any  weapon.  Kineo 
should  die:  and  Madge — who  had  tempted 
mercy  until  there  was  no  mercy  left — she 
should  not  die ;  but  she  should  be  brought 
back,  and  held  np  to  the  shame  and  scorn 
which  were  her  due.  As  Garth  swept  for- 
ward with  heightened  speed,  he  cursed  these 
miles  of  barren  ice  that  hindered  his  re- 
venge !  But  he  would  have  it,  soon  or  late. 
Had  not  his  forefathers  defied  Fate  as  he  de- 
fied it  now,  and  conquered  ? 

But  what  had  they  conquered  ?  or  what 
had  the  conquest  gained  them?  Garth's 
own  father  had  warned  him.  In  their  vic- 
tories they  were  cursed !  Should  Garth  be 
cursed  so,  likewise?  Had  he  dreamed,  that 
night  beside  the  spring,  to  no  better  ournose 


than  now  to  cast  aside  the  grim  lesson  of 
the  Urmson  generations,  and  stain  himself 
also,  the  last  of  his  race,  with  blood?  Should 
that  old  murderous  demon  triumph  over  him, 
as  it  had  triumphed  over  the  rest,  and  make 
the  blot  which  had  thus  far  marred  their 
name,  eternal  ?  Were  his  mother's  love  and 
trust  to  be  thus  justified  ?  and  had  all  his 
boyish  struggles  and  self-discipline  brought 
him  to  this — that  he  must  stand  before  his 
father  to-morrow  with,  murder  on  his  soul  ? 
— As  he  cleft  his  way  onward  through  the 
cold,  still  air,  two  spirits  seemed  to  move 
beside  him,  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the 
left.  One  wore  the  mien  and  features  of  the 
Puritan  ancestor  whose  hands  had  set  the 
granite  threshold-stone  of  Urmhurst  above 
the  sachem's  grave;  the  other  spirit  showed 
the  lineaments  of  Garth's  mother. 

Who  could  say  that  Madge,  at  the  worst, 
had  been  always  and  altogether  false  ?  Had 
she  never  striven  to  be  true  ?  and  if  so,  had 
Garth  been  always  blameless  for  her  ill-suc- 
cess? Even  that  afternoon  she  had  urged 
him,  with  a  vehemence  which  now  he  could 
comprehend,  to  take  her  hand  on  that  same 
journey  which,  to-night,  she  was  beginning 
with  another.  Even  so  lately  she  had  hesi- 
tated in  her  purpose,  and  had  needed  only 
sympathy  and  encouragement  to  have  drawn 
back.  But  he  had  answered  curtly  and 
harshly.  And  if  he  had  been  unsympathetic 
then,  how  many  times  had  he  been  so  be- 
fore? Those  years  of  his  in  Europe — were 
they  guiltless  of  what  was  happening  now  ? 
And  those  long  months  of  dullness  and  delay 
since  his  return,  when  he  was  paltering  be- 
tween right  and  wrong,  action  and  inaction 
— during  that  time  how  many  golden  oppor- 
tunities to  woo  and  Avin  her  had  slipped 
away?  Was  he  not  man  enough  to  be  at 
once  all  she  desired,  and  all  he  desired  for 
himself?  If  not,  was  it  strange  that  Madge, 
vivid  and  restless,  should  have  fled  from  one 
so  paltry,  selfish,  and  oneTsided?  He  had 
worn  her  out  and  driven  her  away,  at  the 
very  moment  that  he  was  hugging  himself 
for  his  virtue  in  keeping  faith  with  her  when 
his  heart  was  elsewhere !  Did  he  well,  then, 
to  be  angry  because  the  cup  himself  had 
filled  was  held  to  his  lips  ? 

Onward  still  he  swept,   and  the  pace 


GRIM  EARNEST. 


275 


must  heave  quickened,  for  the  spirit  of  the 
old  Puritan  was  now  outstripped !  Blessed 
were  the  barren  miles  of  ice  that  had  hin- 
dered his  revenge !  Nor  were  they  barren, 
since  they  had  brought  forth  this  fair  fruit 
in  him.  He  loosened  the  hatchet  from  his 
belt,  and  swinging  it  from  right  to  left,  sent 
it  thence  whizzing  and  spinning  far  across 
the  glassy  surface.  "I'll  get  her,  if  God 
pleases,"  he  said,  aloud;  "let  the  devil's 
part  go !  "  But  Providence  knows  many 
ways  of  saving ;  and  that  which  seems  the 
speediest  is  not  always  so,  where  wayward 
human  souls  are  concerned. 

Nearly  an  hour  had  now  gone  by,  and 
the  moon,  looking  down  through  a  cloud-rift 
upon  the  long-drawn  icy  surface,  marked 
the  shadows  of  three  human  figures  hasten- 
ing along  it,  two  in  advance  and  one  pursu- 
ing: and  the  space  between  pursuers  and 
pursued  grew  constantly  less  and  less.  At 
length  the  latter,  being  within  about  four 
hundred  yards  of  the  old  wooden  bridge, 
came  to  a  standstill.  The  buckle  of  the 
man's  skate-strap  had  given  way,  and  he 
knelt  to  repair  it.  The  woman,  after  rest- 
lessly watching  him  for  a  while,  threw  her- 
self down  on  the  ice  near  by,  and  gazed 
back  toward  the  place  whence  she  came. 
Suddenly  she  crouched  low  and  laid  her  ear 
against  the  surface ;  then  leaped  to  her  feet 
with  a  low  exclamation.  She  had  heard  the 
ring  of  steel,  approaching  fast.  The  man, 
too,  arose  with  a  curse,  holding  one  skate  in 
his  hand. 

"Give  me  the  money — quick!  it's  you 
they're  after !  "  said  he. 

"It  is  Garth!"  said  Madge,  half  in  a 
whisper.  She  lifted  her  clinched  hands  to 
her  face  and  pressed  them  against  her  cheeks. 

As  the  pursuer  emerged  out  of  the  gray 
shadow  and  saw  his  quarry,  he  struck  the 
heel  of  his  skate  into  the  ice  with  a  harsh, 
grinding  sound,  and  brought  up  between 
them,  breathing  deep,  his  brow  moist  with 
sweat. 

"  I'm  come  for  you,  Madge !  " 

She  stood  silent,  mechanically  clasping 
and  unclasping  her  hands.  Kineo,  after 
glancing  up  the  river,  took  his  stand  in  front 
of  her. 

"  It's  man   to  man   here.     We'll   settle 


this,  Garth,  once  'nd  for  all.  Let  her  stick 
to  the  winner !  " 

Garth  seemed  not  to  hear  him.  "  Come, 
Madge !  "  he  repeated.  But  as  he  moved 
round  toward  her,  she  retreated,  silent,  her 
eyes  upon  his  face. 

"Let  her  alone!  she's  always  been  my 
girl!"  said  Kineo,  with  an  oath.  "She 
only  amused  herself  with  you  till  I  was 
ready  for  her !  " 

Then  Madge  spoke.  "  He  tells  the  truth, 
Garth.  He  kissed  me  that  day  at  the  pic- 
nic, years  ago,  though  I  denied  it.  And  that 
night  when  you  ran  the  rapids,  I  was  going 
with  him — only  seeing  you  changed  my 
mind.  But  I  sha'n't  change  any  more:  I 
shall  not  come  back.  You  needn't  be  anx- 
ious about  me,  nor  regret  me.  I'm  glad  you 
know  me  for  what  I  am,  at  last!  I  liked 
deceiving  you  at  first,  but  I'm  tired  of  it 
now.  I'm  going  where  I  can  be  my  real 
self." 

There  was  no  passion  in  the  girl's  tone, 
but  a  fatal  apathy,  as  of  one  with  whom  all 
moral  struggle  was  definitely  over.  She  did 
not  avoid  Garth's  look,  but  rather  sought  it 
with  a  kind  of  listless  directness  that  was 
appalling.  The  truth  that  she  had  spoken, 
ugly  though  it  was,  had  the  power  inherent 
in  all  truth.  Madge  had  never  been  stronger 
than  at  this  moment  of  frank  degradation. 

Garth  had  no  arguments :  he  could  only 
put  forth  his  will,  of  the  strange  force  of 
which  he  himself  was  perhaps  but  partially 
aware.  "Come!"  he  said  to  her  with  the 
quietness  of  intense  resolve ;  and,  though  she 
still  shrank  back,  he  glided  forward  and  laid 
one  hand  upon  her  wrist. 

As  soon  as  she  felt  his  touch,  all  strength 
seemed  to  ebb  away  from  her;  she  sank 
down  on  the  ice  and  bowed  forward,  relaxed 
and  nerveless.  Her  very  eyelids  drooped, 
as  though  heavy  with  drowsiness.  Vigor- 
ous as  she  had  been  to  escape,  she  was  pow- 
erless to  move  one  step  in  return.  Garth 
could  stop  her  flight,  but  his  will  could  not 
compel  active  obedience.  It  could  deaden, 
but  not  vivify. 

He  knelt  beside  her  and  strove  to  rouse 
her;  but  she  only  sank  yet  lower,  averting 
her  face.  Kineo  laughed  jeeringly. 

•'You  let  that  woman  alone  now,  Garth 


276 


GARTH. 


Urmson,  'nd  get  up  'nd  fight  like  a  man! 
or,  by  the  devil,  I'll  brain  you  where  you 
are !  " 

Garth  turned,  and  looked  grimly  up  at 
him,  but  said  not  a  word. 

"With  a  sudden  snarl  of  rage,  the  half- 
breed  raised  the  skate  which  he  had  been 
holding  in  his  hand,  and  dashed  it  in  Garth's 
face.  The  steel  blade  struck  his  chin  and 
cut  a  deep  gash  there.  Madge  started  to  her 
feet  with  a  piercing  scream.  Kineo,  stag- 
gering from  the  violence  of  his  own  throw, 
slipped  and  fell.  In  an  instant  Madge  had 
stooped  and  snatched  the  knife  from  his  belt, 
and  put  it  in  Garth's  hand,  as  he  still  knelt 
on  one  knee,  half  dizzy  from  the  blow. 

"Kill  him!  "  she  whispered  through  her 
set  teeth.  But  Garth  stood  up,  grisly  with 
blood,  and  flung  the  knife  away. 

"He  had  his  grudge  to  pay,"  said  he, 
frowning.  "  But  I  came  for  you." 

It  seemed  as  if  she  must  yield,  or  drop 
before  him  lifeless.  Kineo  was  getting  to 
his  feet  again,  but  there  was  no  help  in  him 
now.  Garth  was  master. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  shout,  and  the 
resounding  of  ice  from  the  direction  of  the 
bridge;  then  other  shouts,  coming  nearer. 
Madge  held  her  breath  to  listen ;  she  recog- 
nized Selwyn's  voice.  Quick  as  thought  she 
turned  to  Garth. 

"  Don't  let  me  be  shamed  before  them !  " 
she  whispered,  hurriedly.  "  Let  me  go  back 
alone,  and  be  there  before  you — then  no 
one  need  know !  Garth — may  I  ?  " 

The  men  were  near ;  there  was  no  leisure 
to  deliberate. 

"Go!" 

She  lingered  yet  a  moment.  "  Say  you 
forgive  me !  " 

He  looked  at  her  without  speaking;  his 
face  was  ghastly  to  behold  ;  but  she  thought 
she  saw  what  she  had  asked  for  in  his  eyes. 

When  Selwyn  and  his  men  came  up, 
Garth  and  Kineo  were  standing  there  alone. 
Garth  looked  at  Jack  angrily. 

"  Is  this  what  you  promised  ? "  he  de- 
manded. 

"I  took  pains  not  to  promise,  old  blood- 
and- thunder !  But — is  that  the  whole  con- 
voy ? "  He  pointed  to  Kineo. 

"That's  all!" 


"  Why,  then,"  exclaimed  Jack,  cheerfully, 
though  not  until  after  a  moment's  pause  for 
consideration,  "so  much  the  better! — Truss 
him  up,  boys! " 

"  Let  him  go :  I  am  responsible !  "  said 
Garth. 

"I'm  not  going !  "  snarled  the  half-breed, 
with  sullen  malignity.  "  You've  put  up  this 
job  between  you.  You  want  to  get  rid  of 
me  now  that  the  woman's  cleared  off  with 
the  money !  But  I'll  let  'em  hear  who  I  am, 
'nd  what  I  know.  You've  got  me,  'nd  now 
you'll  keep  me !  " 

"  Oh,  anything  to  oblige  you,  if  you  feel 
sensitive  about  it !  "  returned  Jack,  with  a 
laugh ;  and  the  prisoner  was  secured  accord- 
ingly. 

Madge  had  skated  northward  a  quarter 
of  a  mile;  then  she  swerved  aside  to  the 
left,  and  in  a  hundred  yards  reached  some 
low  clumps  of  bushes  on  the  verge  of  the 
ice:  behind  these  she  crouched  and  waited. 
By-and-by  a  solitary  skater  came  by;  it  was 
Garth,  hastening  to  catch  up  with  her. 
Even  then,  so  profoundly  had  his  determina- 
tion swayed  her,  it  was  almost  by  main  force 
that  she  kept  herself  from  calling  out,  or  fol- 
lowing him.  But  he  passed,  and  she  had  made 
no  sign.  She  watched  him  with  wide-open, 
straining  eyes,  until  he  had  faded  into  the 
night,  and  out  of  her  sight  forever.  After 
that  a  dull  interval  elapsed ;  the  little  group 
of  the  prisoner  and  his  captors  went  by ;  but 
she  had  no  eyes  for  them — her  face  was  hid- 
den in  her  hands.  At  last  she  arose,  and  fled 
swiftly  toward  Wabeno,  and  toward  the 
world  beyond,  which  she  loved  so  well. 


CHAPTER  LXXX. 

BROTHERS. 

As  soon  as  Elinor  had  ended  her  singing, 
Golightley,  without  waiting  to  thank  her,  or 
speaking  to  any  one  of  his  intention,  had  set 
out  on  foot  for  Urmhurst.  There  was  a 
kind  of  solemn  alertness  in  his  bearing, 
different  from  his  manner  during  the  last 
few  weeks.  He  seemed  to  take  pains  not  to 
let  any  of  the  wintry  beauties  of  the  night 


BROTHERS. 


277 


escape  him;  several  times  he  paused  to 
watch  the  clouds  drift  across  the  moon,  or 
to  observe  the  black  tracery  of  the  branches 
against  the  sky.  Once  he  picked  up  some 
snow,  made  it  into  a  snowball,  and  aimed  it 
at  the  trunk  of  a  tree  thirty  paces  distant, 
repeating  the  effort  until  he  hit  the  mark. 
Occasionally  he  would  pull  off  his  hat,  and 
let  the  night  air  breathe  upon  his  forehead  ; 
and  at  two  or  three  points  of  the  route  he 
stopped  to  look  about  him,  as  one  might  do 
who  wished  to  impress  upon  his  memory  a 
scene  he  expected  not  to  see  again. 

At  length  he  stood  before  Urmhurst,  and 
looked  up  at  its  darksome  front,  which 
seemed  to  frown  forbiddingly  upon  him  with 
its  overhanging  brows.  Two  of  the  win- 
dows were  alight — those  of  Cuthbert's  study, 
and  of  the  kitchen.  Peeping  through  the 
latter,  Golightley  saw  an  oil-lamp  burning 
on  the  table,  but  the  room  was  empty.  He 
passed  round  to  the  back  of  the  house,  en- 
tered with  as  little  noise  as  possible,  and, 
lighting  a  candle,  descended  into  the  cellar. 
The  floor  was  the  bare  earth  ;  the  sides  were 
walled  with  brick,  built  in  between  ancient 
joists  of  oaken  timber.  He  made  his  way 
between  a  medley  of  empty  apple-barrels, 
superannuated  farming-implements,  and  oth- 
er rubbish,  until  he  reached  the  southern 
end.  He  was  now  standing  directly  beneath 
the  Urmhurst  doorway,  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  brick  wall  in  front  of  him  was 
the  sachem's  grave. 

He  set  do-wn  his  candle,  and  with  a 
broken  trowel,  which  he  found  lying  near, 
began  to  loosen  the  bricks  from  the  square 
space  between  four  intersecting  joists.  They 
came  out  readily,  and,  after  about  a  dozen 
had  been  removed,  he  took  his  candle  and 
peered  into  the  black  cavity  beyond. 

Nothing  was  there  but  some  brownish, 
crumbling  fragments,  which  might  once 
have  been  bones ;  and,  arranged  amid  them, 
a  number  of  quaint  little  objects  of  Indi- 
an origin — medicine-bags  and  other  such  mys- 
terious votive  offerings — none  of  which  had 
been  there  when  Golightley  last  inspected 
the  place  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury ago.  These  were  all ;  the  tiling  which 
he  had  come  after  was  gone.  Evidently,  the 
same  hand  which  deposited  the  medicine- 


bags  had  carried  off  the  sacrilegious  pewter 
warming-dish,  with  its  contents. 

A  month  ago  Golightley  would  not  much 
have  cared  whether  the  triangular  parchment 
were  lost  or  not.  But  latterly  the  world 
had  changed  for  him ;  and  he  needed  it,  not 
as  a  power,  but  as  an  apology  and  a  justifi- 
cation :  and  it  seemed  more  desirable  to  him 
for  the  later  purposes  than  it  had  ever  been 
for  the  former.  It  was  useless  to  think  of 
hunting  for  it,  however;  and  equally  vain  to 
hope  that  the  person  who  knew  where  it 
was  would  tell.  Most  likely,  indeed,  it  had 
been  destroyed.  On  that  night,  three  months 
ago,  when  Golightley  had  told  his  ghost- 
story  to  the  circle  round  the  kitchen-hearth, 
he  had  been  half  minded  to  destroy  it  him- 
self. Something  that  Madge  had  said  to 
him,  after  the  story,  had  suggested  the  idea 
that  she  had  made  a  shrewd  guess  as  to  what 
the  triangular  parchment  might  be;  and 
several  keen  innuendoes  which  she  had  let 
fall  since  then  had  pointed  the  same  way. 
But  other  matters  of  greater  temporary  im- 
portance had  made  him  comparatively  in- 
different to  this:  and  now  it  was  too  late. 
Viewing  her  hints  in  the  light  of  this  disap- 
pearance, it  seemed  manifest  that  they  were 
the  issue,  not  of  conjecture,  but  of  knowledge. 
Nikomis  had  found  the  parchment,  Madge 
had  seen  it  and  read  it ;  but  neither  she  nor 
Nikomis  had  known  how  it  got  in  the  grave, 
until  Golightley's  fireside  narrative  had  ex- 
plained the  mystery. 

"  Confound  my  stupidity  !  "  he  muttered 
to  himself.  "It's  not  destiny,  though  I've 
always  said  it  was;  it's  my  own  stupidity, 
by  George,  that's  beaten  me!  " 

As  this  wholesome  conviction  entered  his 
mind,  he  heard  the  door  at  the  head  of  the 
cellar-stairs  open.  Some  boards  were  lean- 
ing against  the  wall  near  at  hand;  he  crept 
behind  them,  and  snuffed  out  his  candle  with 
his  fingers.  Peeping  through  a  crevice,  he 
saw  Nikomis  come  hobbling  along,  holding 
the  light  above  her  head,  and  mumbling  to 
herself.  She  stopped  within  two  paces  of 
his  hiding-place,  knelt  on  the  ground,  and, 
brushing  away  a  layer  of  earth  and  rubbish, 
lifted  up  a  square  bit  of  planking  which  had 
been  concealed  there.  Out  of  the  hollow 
thus  disclosed  she  took  the  well-remembered 


278 


GARTH. 


pewter  -warming-dish ;  and  unfastening  the 
false  bottom,  three  papers  fell  into  her 
lap.  One  of  these  was  the  triangular  parch- 
ment. 

The  veins  in  Golightley's  forehead  swelled 
as  the  old  witch  took  it  up  and  turned  it 
about  between  her  dark,  knotty  fingers. 
Should  he  blow  out  her  lamp  (he  could  easily 
do  it,  for  it  stood  quite  near  him),  and  then 
trust  to  the  chance  of  being  able  to  seize  the 
parchment  and  make  his  escape  in  the  dark- 
ness ?  To  his  relief,  however,  the  Indian  de- 
cided the  question  by  replacing  the  precious 
document  in  the  dish,  and  putting  the  dish 
itself  back  in  the  hole,  which  she  covered 
over  as  before.  The  other  papers  she  stowed 
away  in  the  folds  of  the  blanket  she  wore ; 
and  so  got  to  her  feet  and  hobbled  away,  her 
frosty  breath  showing  mistily  in  the  light  of 
her  uplifted  lamp. 

When  all  was  dark  and  silent  once  more, 
Golightley  lighted  his  candle  and  thankfully 
repossessed  himself  of  his  treasure.  At  an- 
other time  he  might  have  regretted  losing 
the  other  papers,  which  were  doubtless  the 
same  that  Madge  had  yesterday  mentioned 
having  sent  to  Professor  Grindle — without 
Nikomis's  knowledge  or  consent.  But,  as  it 
was,  he  was  satisfied,  and  lost  no  time  in 
getting  to  his  chamber,  where  he  found  a 
cheerful  fire  burning,  evidence  of  his  broth- 
er's kindly  forethought.  He  sat  down  be- 
fore the  fire,  with  the  parchment  in  his 
hands. 

After  he  had  sat  there  for  a  while,  stretch- 
•ing  his  chilled  fingers  toward  the  leaping 
blaze,  a  singular  temptation  came  to  him. 
He  longed  to  burn  the  document  which  he 
had  been  so  near  losing,  and  had  recovered 
only  by  so  exceptional  a  chance.  He  held  it 
out  to  the  flame- -then  snatched  it  hastily 
back  again.  Presently  he  repeated  the  ac- 
tion, this  time  keeping  it  extended  until  one 
of  the  corners  had  become  brown ;  but  he 
could  not  quite  resolve  upon  the  sacrifice, 
and  the  parchment  was  withdrawn  once 
more.  Finally,  as  though  fearful  lest  he 
should  commit  the  deed  by  a  sort  of  fasci- 
nation, without  intending  it,  he  jumped  up, 
walked  to  the  table,  and  laid  the  parchment 
down  upon  it. 

His  hesitation  thus  disposed  of,  Golight- 


ley threw  off  his  clothes,  bathed  himself  from 
head  to  foot,  dressed  himself  in  elaborate 
evening  costume,  scented  his  handkerchief? 
beard,  and  hands,  and  finished  by  drawing 
on  his  neatest  pair  of  patent-leather  boots. 
j  This  done,  he  seated  himself  at  his  table,  took 
out  writing-materials,  and  wrote  far  into  the 
night. 

Cuthbert  had  spent  the  afternoon  in  his 
study,  looking  over  and  putting  in  order  the 
MS.  pages  of  his  history.  The  work,  the 
labor  of  a  lifetime,  was  incomplete;  and  no 
one  who  had  beheld  its  author's  emaciated 
countenance  could  have  doubted  that,  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  it  must  remain 
so. 

"  It's  been  a  failure  in  the  same  way  that 
my  life  has  been,"  he  murmured  to  himself 
at  last,  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  "  There 
are  good  passages  in  it,  and  the  plan  of  it 
was  not  altogether  amiss;  but  Heaven  has 
not  seen  fit  to  furnish  such  odds  and  ends  as 
alone  could  have  rendered  it  an  effective  and 
intelligible  whole.  So,  being  a  failure,  it 
had  better  perish — the  manuscript,  I  mean ! 
Ah,  me!  why  didn't  I  concentrate  all  my 
wisdom  in  some  JEsopian  fable  about  mice 
or  chimney-swallows,  which  children  might 
have  learned  by  heart,  and  sages  have  quoted 
three  thousand  years  from  now  ?  That  had 
been  a  worthier  fruit  of  sixty  years,  rne- 
thinks,  than  a  handful  or  two  of  ashes. 
Vain  man,  who  didst  undertake  more  than 
thou  couldst  accomplish !  Well — here  goes !  " 

He  took  the  thick  pile  of  MSS.  from  the 
table,  and  laid  it — not  without  a  certain  half- 
playful  reverence — amid  the  burning  logs 
upon  the  hearth.  Then,  with  his  cheek  upon 
his  hand,  and  an  occasional  smile  stirring  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  he  looked  on  until  the 
busy  flame  had  mastered  every  page  of  the 
famous  history. 

"That  was  easily  done!"  said  he.  "I 
wish  all  human  mistakes  and  shortcomings 
could  be  so  simply  and  comfortably  rectified ! 
If  free  murder  and  suicide  were  not  immor- 
al, what  a  blessing  they  would  be !  " 

After  a  long  interval  of  still  meditation, 
he  continued : 

"  How  funny  it  is  that  I,  simple  as  I  sit 
here,  have  remained  all  my  life  as  unread  as 


BROTHERS. 


279 


my  history !  I  have  been  loved,  and  liked, 
and  some  people  have  been  a  little  afraid  of 
me,  and  a  few,  I  trust,  have  positively  dis- 
liked me ;  but  no  one  has  known  me,  heart 
and  brain  at  once ;  though  my  Martha  knew 
the  one,  and  honest  Tom  Grindle  does  more 
than  justice  to  the  other.  And  sweet, 
haughty  little  Elinor  has  come  very  close  to 
me.  Still,  I  have  been  alone.  Not  willing- 
ly, Heaven  knows!  It  is  not  that  I  am  more 
nice  than  wise,  but  more  odd  than  nice !  I 
can't  tell  people  how  to  get  at  me ;  and,  if 
they  don't  hit  the  mark  the  first  time,  all  my 
efforts  to  explain  myself  only  seem  to  puzzle 
them  the  more.  Most  human  beings  were 
made  in  pairs,  or  quartets,  or  scores;  but  I 
am  one  of  those  unfortunates  who  were  put 
together  from  the  spare  pieces,  and  must  re- 
main unmated. 

"  Yet  my  range  of  sympathies  must  be 
pretty  wide,  since  I  have  made  friends  with 
two  such  diverse  personages  as  Elinor  and 
Nikomis !  I  suspect  Nikomis  of  having 
made  great  sacrifices  in  my  behalf,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  grim  devotion  with  which  she 
has  tended  me  through  my  illness.  She 
meant  us  no  good  when  she  first  came  here ; 
but,  somehow  or  other,  I  have  won  that  un 
speakable  old  organ  which  serves  her  for  a 
heart.  She  means  to  deny  her  unhappy 
grandson  for  my  sake :  I  am  to  pass  my  last 
days  in  affluence  at  the  expense  of  my  neph- 
ew !  But  I  will  have  a  grand  explanation 
with  her  this  evening.  How  surprised  she 
will  be  when  I  open  upon  her  the  vials  of 
my  omniscience !  She  will  think  that,  during 
my  long  association  with  her,  I  must  have 
found  means  to  appropriate  some  of  her 
witchcraft.  But  it  has  really  been  touching 
to  behold  her,  and  all  the  other  good  people, 
walking  on  tiptoe  and  laying  their  fingers 
on  their  lips  in  my  presence,  in  order  to 
spare  me  the  pain  and  humiliation  of  discov- 
ering secrets  which  I  knew  before  they  did ! 
And  I  solemnly  accept  my  role  of  deaf,  dumb, 
and  blind.  But  I  must  reveal  my  duplicity 
now,  since  a  week  hence  my  nephew  up- 
stairs (though  he  were  the  most  deserving 
young  gentleman  out  of  jail)  would  be  too 
late  for  his  legacy.  Nikomis  shall  help  me 
prepare  a  statement  that  may  satisfy  Tom's 
scruples:  and  to-morrow,  when  he  and 


Garth  are  both  here,  we  will  hold  a  cabinet 
council ! 

"  The  beloved  old  Hottentot !  Methinks 
I  see  a  possible  way  out  of  the  woods  for 
him.  He  shall  not  marry  naughty  Madge — 
in  fact,  I  doubt  whether  she  be  quite  naughty 
enough,  or  quite  unselfish  enough  either,  to 
let  him  do  so.  But  when  I  shall  have  shaken 
the  soul  of  that  poor,  shameful,  pathetic 
brother  of  mine,  Elinor  will  be  free;  and 
then,  if  Garth  cannot  manage  the  rest,  he  is 
more  faint  of  heart  than  I  believe  him. 

"But  poor,  vain,  pathetic  Golightley, 
with  his  mystery  which  has  been,  for  him, 
the  saddest  of  mysteries!  what  shall  become 
of  him?  If  my  life  could  be  of  service  to 
him,  he  were  most  welcome;  but  that's  ab- 
surd ;  and  he  has  used  up  everything  else  1 
Yet  what  a  pity  that — since  the  only  thing  I 
can  hope  successfully  to  achieve  in  this  world 
is  a  speedy  getting  out  of  it — I  should  be 
unable  to  benefit  any  one  by  my  departure. 
I  have  no  fortune  to  bequeath — no  forlorn 
hope  to  head;  I'm  not  even  in  anybody's 
way — except  my  own ! — But  come,  Cuth- 
bert !  no  grumbling.  I'll  at  all  events  min- 
ister unto  my  brother  until  this  not  too  solid 
flesh  has  melted:  I  fear  he  won't  find  many' 
to  take  his  part  after  I  am  gone. 

"  So !  there  comes  my  stern  friend  pain 
again.  What  a  rigorous  guide  is  this  which 
brings  me  to  thee,  my  own  gentle  Cotton 
Martha!  I  wish  this  might  be  the  last  stage 
of  the  journey." 

The  hour  of  physical  anguish  which  now 
ensued  for  Cuthbert  was  also  the  one  which 
saw  the  departure  from  Urmhurst  of  Sam 
Kineo,  after  a  not  very  genial  parting  scene 
with  his  grandmother.  When,  therefore,  a 
few  hours  later,  she  and  Cuthbert  had  speech 
of  each  other,  the  interview  pointed  to  re- 
sults somewhat  different  from  those  which 
he  had  anticipated.  They  did  not  hear  Go- 
lightley come  in;  but  the  new  light  upon 
affairs  had  made  Cuthbert  so  anxious  to  see 
him,  that  at  length,  by  way  of  beguiling  his 
suspense,  he  crossed  the  passage,  and  opened 
the  door  of  Eve's  chamber.  Nikomis  came 
behind  him. 

Golightley  was  standing  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  his  back  to  the  door.  He  was 
clad  in  full  evening  dress.  On  the  table 


280 


GARTH. 


beside  him  were  written  papers,  neatly  ar- 
ranged. In  his  hands  he  held  an  object 
which  Cuthbert  was  at  first  unable  to  dis- 
cern ;  but  instinctively  he  glanced  up  at  the 
wall  above  the  fireplace.  Captain  Neil's 
historic  pistol  was  missing  from  its  accus- 
tomed place. 

Golightley,  unconscious  of  the  other's 
presence,  raised  the  weapon,  his  left  hand 
grasping  the  barrel,  while  his  right  was  on 
the  lock.  The  muzzle  was  aimed  at  his 
breast. 

"  Brother !  "  cried  Cuthbert ;  and  hurried 
desperately  forward. 

With  a  great  start,  as  of  one  whose 
nerves  had  been  wrought  up  almost  to  the 
pitch  of  madness,  Golightley  turned  partly 
round.  At  the  same  moment  his  thumb 
tightened  convulsively  on  the  trigger.  The 
pistol  exploded ;  the  ball  grazed  his  own 
shoulder,  and  buried  itself  in  Cuthbert's 
heart.  And  Cuthbert,  with  only  a  sigh,  as 
of  a  tired  child  dropping  asleep,  fell  forward 
on  his  face,  never  to  suffer  pain  of  mind  or 
body  any  more. 


CHAPTER  LXXXI. 

THE   VICTIM. 

ELINOR  and  Mrs.  Tenterden  had  driven 
home  from  the  lake  in  the  parson's  sleigh ; 
and  he,  after  gallantly  helping  them  to  alight, 
and  wishing  them  a  merry  Christmas  and  a 
happy  New-Year  in  advance,  had  left  them 
at  the  door  of  the  Danvers'  cottage,  and  slid 
away  with  jingling  bells  to  his  own  dwelling. 

Mrs.  Tenterden  had  enjoyed*  her  day 
greatly,  and  even  the  unexplained  disappear- 
ance of  Madge  and  Garth  had  occasioned  her 
no  anxiety.  As  for  Golightley's  equally 
unceremonious  secession,  she  had  openly 
quizzed  Elinor  about  it,  archly  warning  her 
that  she  must  not  practise  too  far  upon  the 
good-nature  even  of  such  a  long-suffering 
man  as  he.  After  they  got  back  to  the  cot- 
tage, the  good  lady  called  her  to  her  room, 
to  listen  to  an  exhaustive  and  leisurely  re- 
capitulation of  the  day's  doings,  in  the  course 
of  which  every  incident  that  had  come  under 
Mrs.  Tenterden's  observation  was  brought 


up  for  judgment,  and  dismissed  with  a  laugh, 
in  which  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  Eli- 
nor joined.  At  length,  when  nothing  was 
left  but  to  slay  the  slain  over  again,  the 
younger  lady  remarked  that  it  was  late,  and 
that  she  would  go  to  her  room.  The  elder 
thereupon  kissed  her  affectionately  and  bade 
her  good-night,  with  the  assurance  that 
things  would  soon  begin  to  look  more  cheer- 
ful for  them  all.  In  that  persuasion  she 
went  sumptuously  and  peacefully  to  bed, 
and  Elinor  left  her. 

But  Elinor  could  not  rest.  She  waited  a 
long  time  in  the  hope  that  Madge  might  ap- 
pear; pacing  up  and  down  her  little  room, 
or  standing  in  anxious  expectation  at  the 
window.  But  Madge  came  not;  and  the 
white  road,  and  the  field  and  naked  forest 
beyond,  looked  lonelier  and  more  lifeless  as 
the  empty  minutes  passed.  Unable,  at  last, 
to  endure  inactive  suspense  any  longer,  she 
put  on  her  cloak  and  hood,  left  the  house, 
and  set  off  at  a  swift  pace  toward  Urmhurst. 

Garth,  arriving  at  the  lake  upward  of 
two  hours  after  he  had  left  it,  and  finding  it 
deserted,  supposed  that  Madge  must  have 
got  there  in  time  to  accompany  the  others 
home.  The  question  was,  whether  they  had 
gone  to  Urmhurst  or  to  the  cottage.  After 
some  consideration,  Garth  decided  that  he 
at  any  ratefcwould  return  to  Urmhurst,  and, 
if  Madge  was  not  there,  would  defer  seeing 
her  until  the  next  day.  Accordingly,  he  un- 
fastened his  skates,  and  struck  off  through 
the  woods  in  that  direction.  In  rather  more 
than  an  hour,  weary  in  soul  and  body,  he 
came  in  sight  of  the  house  and  approached 
the  porch.  Some  one  was  standing  beneath 
it ;  was  it  Madge  ?  It  was  not  until  he  stood 
within  reach  of  her  that  he  recognized  Eli- 
nor. He  took  her  hand ;  then  both  at  once 
asked  the  same  question : 

"Where  is  she?" 

Garth's  fingers  relaxed  their  hold,  and 
his  arm  dropped  to  his  side. 

"You  have  been  to  the  cottage?"  he 
asked  at  length,  in  a  dull  tone. 

Elinor  nodded.  She  could  not  say  any- 
thing. 

"O  Madge!  I  trusted  you:  you  asked 
me  to  forgive  you."  His  voice  had  lost  all 
life  and  depth ;  he  leaned  against  one  of  the 


THE  VICTIM. 


281 


stunted  oak-trees  that  supported  the  porch, 
and  breathed  like  a  man  exhausted. 

Before  Elinor  could  comprehend  the  sig- 
nificance of  his  words,  a  sharp,  violent  noise 
from  within  the  house  smote  upon  their 
ears.  Garth  raised  his  head  slowly. 

"Who  is  in  this  house?"  he  asked,  with 
something  akin  to  indignation  in  his  tone. 

"  I've  not  been  in,"  replied  Elinor,  faint- 
ly pressing  her  hand  on  her  heart.  "There 
can  be  no  one  but  your  father  and  Nikomis 
— and  perhaps  Golightley." 

He  stood  erect  again  and  manned  him- 
self. "  Give  me  your  hand,"  said  he.  "  Will 
you  come  ?  " 

She  replied  only  by  tightening  her  slen- 
der clasp.  Garth  threw  open  the  heavy  door 
fiercely,  and  they  went  in.  Half-way  down 
the  hall  they  paused  a  moment  to  listen. 
The  stillness  was  complete.  "  It  may  be 
nothing !  "  said  he. 

But,  when  they  reached  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  an  invisible,  appalling  warning  met 
them — the  faint  odor  of  burned  powder. 
Garth  stopped  short,  and  for  several  seconds 
his  heart  seemed  to  fail  him:  he  gasped 
audibly,  and  his  hand  grew  rigid  and  shook. 
Then  Elinor's  courage  roused  itself,  and  she 
drew  him  on,  striving  to  make  him  feel  her 
voiceless  sympathy.  They  went  up  the 
stairs  together,  and  stood  on  the  threshold 
of  Eve's  chamber. 

Nikomis  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  with 
Cuthbert's  head  on  her  knee,  and  was  part- 
ing back  the  gray  hair  from  his  forehead 
with  one  hand.  His  eyes  were  half  closed ; 
Elinor  and  Garth  knew  at  once  that  he  was 
dead.  Golightley,  in  his  evening  dress,  half 
sat  on  the  table,  in  an  attitude  which,  but 
for  the  circumstances,  would  have  appeared 
jaunty.  His  left  hand  held  the  pistol  by  the 
barrel ;  with  his  right  he  was  tremulously 
adjusting  his  eye-glasses.  The  expression 
of  his  features  seemed,  at  the  first  glance,  to 
indicate  stupid  annoyance — hardly  more  than 
that.  Stretched  along  the  still  air  hung  a 
thin  veil  of  smoke. 

Garth  relinquished  Elinor's  hand  and 
came  forward  a  few  heavy  steps,  fetching 
his  breath  with  a  slight  scrape  in  the  throat 
at  each  inspiration.  He  had  not  looked  at 
the  dead  body,  after  his  first  glance  at  it  : 


his  eyes  were  fixed  constantly  on  Golightley, 
whose  blank  gaze  wandered  and  shifted  un- 
certainly. Garth  faced  him  for  a  long  time, 
without  word  or  gesture.  At  length  he  ex- 
tended one  arm,  and  waved  the  open  hand 
toward  his  uncle,  as  if  mutely  to  command 
his  attention. 

Golightley  stirred  uneasily,  and  passed 
his  tremulous  fingers  down  his  cheek.  He 
moved  his  lips  to  speak,  but  could  make  no 
sound. 

"  How  came  you  alive  ? "  demanded 
Garth. 

Again  the  other's  lips  moved,  and  at  last 
there  came  a  voice,  which  had  no  substance 
in  it,  and  yet  was  not  a  whisper. 

"  The  clumsiest  thing !  I  hadn't  oiled 
the  lock.  I  was  very  nervous — and  his 
coming  in  and  speaking  suddenly  made  me 
jump!  I  had  dressed  myself  on  purpose, 
and — arranged  everything.  But  I  missed 
myself,  by  George !  and — " 

At  this  point  his  wandering  glance  lighted 
upon  the  solemn  whiteness  of  the  dead  face, 
and  became  riveted  there.  The  pistol  slipped 
from  his  grasp,  and  fell  to  the  floor.  He 
stood  up,  like  a  man  awakened,  and  snatched 
away  his  eye-glasses,  thereby  revealing  the 
haggard  obliquity  of  his  vision. 

"It  can't  be!  "he  faltered,  querulously. 
"  Some  mistake — eh  ?  My  brother,  you 
know — the  only  man  who  would  have  for- 
given me!  Who  is  here? — by  George,  it's 
terribly  like ! — at  least,  so  it  strikes  me.  But 
there  would  be  no  one  to  forgive  me.  .  .  . 
O  Garth,  you  here  ?  Well,  now  look  at  that 
— you've  got  the  artist's  eye — look  at  that, 
and  tell  me  if  it  isn't  a  likeness ! — ha,  ha ! — 
eh  ?  isn't  it  ?  " 

"Garth,  why  you  not  kill  him— um?" 
growled  Nikomis.  "He  kill  Cuthbert,  and 
laugh !  Why  you  not  kill  ?  " 

"He  tried  to  die — I  cannot  help  him!" 
said  Garth,  gloomily.  He  turned  from  his 
uncle  and  knelt  beside  his  father's  body. 
"  This  is  for  me,"  he  said,  taking  it  from  the 
old  Indian's  support. 

Elinor  had  all  this  while  remained  where 
Garth  had  left  her,  near  the  door.  She  now 
came  quietly  forward  to  withdraw  Golight- 
ley from  the  room.  But  his  mind,  which 
had  for  a  time  been  shaken  off  its  poise  by 


282 


GABTH. 


the  horror  of  his  deed,  was  beginning  at  last 
to  realize  what  had  happened.  He  broke 
into  sobs  and  moans,  rubbing  his  hands  over 
each  other,  and  holding  them  out  entreat- 
ingly  to  Elinor,  to  Nikomis,  and  even  to 
Garth. 

"  My  brother!  he's  dead!  Let  me  go  to 
him — I  have  a  right  to  go  to  him,  for  it  was 
I  that  killed  him !  I  have  no  one  but  him — 
everybody  will  be  against  me !  I  shall  never 
be  forgiven  if  you  keep  me  from  him !  AYon't 
any  of  you  relent  to  a  poor  wretch  who'd 
have  been  dead  himself,  but  for  an  accident  ? " 

"  You  must  not  go  to  him  now  !  "  whis- 
pered Elinor.  "  Come  away — hush  !  Oh, 
cannot  you  pray  God  to  forgive  you?  " 

Nikomis  seized  him  roughly  by  the  arm. 
"You  come  out,  you  Golightley!"  she 
growled,  pushing  him  along.  "  You  kill — 
now  you  want  scalp — urn  ?  Next  time  you 
want  to  die,  you  tell  Nikomis :  me  help  you 
—ugh!" 

Before  Elinor  followed  these  two  out  of 
the  room,  she  came  and  stood  near  Garth, 
who,  lifting  his  darkening  eyes,  met  a  look 
of  such  divine  sympathy  as  he  never  saw  on 
any  face  but  hers. 

"  Your  father  would  have  forgiven  him  ; 
and  you  will  forgive  him,  soon,"  said  she. 
"  Even  I  had  something  to  forgive." 

"  Thank  you !  "  he  answered,  replying  to 
the  spirit  rather  than  to  the  words. 

Her  eyes  brightened  through  the  tears 
that  stood  in  them ;  and  thus  she  left  him, 
without  further  argument,  alone. 


CHAPTER  LXXXII. 

SPECIAL   PLEADIXG. 

ON  the  New-Year's-eve  following,  three 
friends  of  Garth  sat  round  the  kitchen-fire- 
place, discussing  the  events  which  had  lately 
taken  place.  It  was  morning,  breakfast  had 
just  been  taken,  and  Garth  himself  was  up- 
stairs, making  his  final  preparations  for  a 
journey. 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you,  professor," 
said  Selwyn,  taking  up  his  knee  between  his 
clasped  hands,  "that  I'm  against  it.  In  the 
first  place,  he  won't  find  her;  then,  if  he 


does,  she  won't  come  back  with  him ;  and 
finally,  if  she  did  come  back  with  him,  it 
would  only  make  them  both  worse  off  than 
they  are  now !  " 

"  But  he  could  never  rest  until  he  knew 
there  was  no  more  hope,"  observed  Elinor. 
"  And  if  he  were  to  succeed,  Jack,  it  must 
be  for  the  best ! " 

"Ay,  I'm  of  your  mind,  Miss  Elinor," 
said  Professor  Grindle,  folding  his  arms  and 
nodding  his  thick  eyebrows  at  her.  "Let 
each  do  his  best  before  saying,  k  God  wills  it 
otherwise.'  That  was  my  dear  friend  Urrn- 
son's  plan — and  he  was  the  worthiest  man  I 
ever  knew." 

"My  friend  Garth  will  be  up  with  him 
before  he's  done !  "  remarked  Jack.  Elinor 
gave  him  a  smile,  which,  after  he  had  medi- 
tated on  it  for  a  while,  cost  him  a  sigh. 

"If  I  were  Garth,  though,"  he  resumed, 
"I  should  never  feel  anxious  about  that 
young  lady.  If  she  is  not  able  to  take  care 
of  herself,  may  I  be — surprised !  "What  could 
have  been  neater,  for  instance,  than  her 
management  of  Kineo  ?  She  made  him  give 
her  his  ten  thousand  pounds  on  the  plea 
that,  if  they  met  with  any  interruption,  it 
would  be  safer  with  her  than  with  him.  So 
it  would  have  been,  if  she  had  been  as  much 
under  his  thumb  as  he  fancied  she  was.  But 
she  meant  to  give  him  the  slip  from  the  first. 
She  has  played  one  of  us  against  the  other 
in  a  way  that  gray-haired  diplomatists  might 
envy.  What  a  political  intriguer  she  would 
make!  That  will  be  her  career,  too,  if  I'm 
not  mistaken.  She  will  set  kings  and  em- 
perors by  the  ears,  and  alter  the  map  of  Eu- 
rope, before  she's  done! " 

"I  don't  know  that  I'd  so  greatly  object 
to  that !  "  said  Grindle,  with  one  of  his  un- 
compromising smiles.  "But  speaking  of 
Kineo — I  understand  there  was  no  evidence 
to  convict  him  on  that  charge?  " 

"Xo,  for  Garth  lit  the  bonfire  with  the 
proofs  of  the  forgery  and  conspiracy,  and  all 
that  remained  for  Kineo  was  to  be  locked  up 
a  few  months  for  some  petty  felony  or  other 
committed  before  the  grand  affair.  How- 
ever, I  heard  last  night  that  he  had  taken 
matters  into  his  own  hands.  He  pitched 
into  one  of  the  jailers,  day  before  yesterday, 
with  an  iron  bar  from  his  cell-window,  and 


SPECIAL  PLEADING. 


283 


so  mauled  tho  poor  fellow  that  his  life  is 
still  in  danger.  If  he  dies,  it's  either  murder 
or  the  next  thing  to  it ;  if  he  gets  well,  it's 
(inly  State-prison  for  ten  years.  But  even 
that  is  something !  " 

"  Ay,  and  enough,  I  trust,  Mr.  Selwyn. 
But  'tis  strange  how  all  the  evil  passions  and 
wickedness  called  up  during  this  long  feud 
between  the  Urmsons  and  the  Indians  should 
have  centred  in  this  Kineo,  who  has  the 
blood  of  both  parties  in  his  veins.  He  is  the 
incarnate  emblem  of  all  the  wrong  done  and 
plotted  for  two  hundred  years.  May  it  find 
its  end  in  him,  likewise !  " 

"Didn't  you  say,  Professor  Grindle,  that 
Mr.  Urmson  had  left  something  relating  to 
Eve— telling  what  became  of  her  after  she 
disappeared  ?  "  asked  Elinor. 

"It  was  merely  some  notes,  my  dear 
young  lady,  of  a  conversation  had  with  Ni- 
komis  on  the  night  of  his  death.  Eve,  you 
are  aware,  was  a  strange,  reserved,  advent- 
urous child,  idolized  by  her  father  and  con- 
trolled by  no  one.  A  party  of  these  Indians, 
lurking  in  the  neighborhood,  made  friends 
with  her,  and  at  length  enticed  her  away 
with  them.  She  and  one  of  their  boys — a 
son  of  Nikomis — had  become  quite  fond  of 
each  other ;  and  Nikomis  conceived  the  idea 
of  having  them  legally  married  when  they 
were  old  enough,  and  thus,  in  some  unde- 
fined manner,  compassing  a  more  refined 
retribution  upon  the  Urmsons  than  could  be 
wrought  by  merely  killing  and  scalping  her. 
The  plan  was  agreed  to,  and  the  pair  were 
afterward  married  by  a  missionary  residing 
thereabout ;  and,  when  the  child  was  born, 
the  same  priest  baptized  it  with  the  name  of 
Samuel. 

"That's  all  about  Eve,  who  died  a  year 
or  so  later.  But  the  tribe  got  to  fighting 
with  its  neighbors  soon  after  that ;  and  at 
length,  in  a  night-attack,  they  were  nearly 
all  massacred.  Nikomis,  however,  escaped 
with  the  boy;  and,  though  wounded  in  the 
knee,  she  got  safe  to  Urmsworth  with  htm 
and  with  the  certificates.  Just  what  she 
meant  to  do  seems  uncertain;  most  likely 
she  had  no  definite  plan,  but  thought  to  lie 
in  wait,  and  eftect  whatever  mischief  cir- 
cumstances might  put  in  her  way.  How- 
ever, circumstances  are  powerful  things,  as 


we  all  know;  and  in  twenty  years  they 
have  transformed  Nikomis  from  a  foe  to  a 
partisan." 

"  A  partisan  with  exceptions,  though," 
interposed  Jack,  with  a  smile.  "She  has 
always  had  a  wholesome  hatred  of  Golight- 
ley,  and  even  Garth  hardly  thawed  her  until 
very  lately.  Mr.  Urmson  was  the  circum- 
stances! " 

"  He,  and  her  grandson's  delinquencies," 
rejoined  Grindle.  "It  appears,  I  find,  that 
she  was  not  aware  of  the  application  made 
to  me  by  Garth  for  the  legacy.  She  had 
already  refused  Kineo  the  certificates,  and 
purposed  destroying  them,  and  so,  as  it  were, 
blotting  him  out  of  existence." 

"Mr.  Urmson  knew  nothing  of  the  appli- 
cation either,  did  he  ?  " 

"No,  sir:  and  when,  on  that  last  night, 
he  opened  the  subject  to  Nikomis,  and  pro- 
posed that  the  legacy  should  be  settled  on 
Kineo  in  the  form  of  an  inconvertible  annui- 
ty, so  that  it  might,  if  possible,  avert  rather 
than  hasten  his  destruction,  Nikomis  would 
hear  nothing  of  it ;  and  on  his  persisting, 
she  fetched  the  certificates  and  burned  them 
before  his  eyes.  Of  course,  things  being  as 
they  are,  that  makes  small  difference ;  and 
Garth  tells  me  that  she  is  to  have  sole  pos- 
session of  Urmhurst  henceforth." 

"Well,  things  might  have  been  worse!  " 
exclaimed  Jack,  after  a  silence.  "  I  don't 
believe  anybody  except.  Nikomis  could  be 
hired  to  live  in  this  house,  now,  upon  any 
terms.  And  as  for  the  money  part  of  the 
legacy,  it  must  have  inflicted  a  bitter  pang 
upon  Kineo's  manly  heart  to  lose  it  in  just 
the  way  he  did ;  and  since  ,Garth  wouldn't 
have  condescended  to  touch  it  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, there's  no  great  harm  done  as 
far  as  that  goes.  All  that  troubles  me  is, 
that  the  rogue  who  was  really  at  the  bottom 
of  the  whole  misery  should  get  off  scot-free!  " 

"I  think,"  said  Elinor,  "that  he  suffers 
more  than  all,  and  almost  more  than  he  can 
bear.  For  his  punishment  is  not  such  as  to 
harden  his  heart:  it  has  made  it  sensitive 
beyond  what  it  ever  was  before." 

"  Ay,  his  pain  is  great,"  said  the  profess- 
or, gravely.  "  Were  it  greater,  the  poor 
wretch's  brain,  which  already  betrays  oc- 
casional unsteadiness,  would  collapse  utter- 


GARTH. 


ly ;  and  that,  I  apprehend,  may  be  the  final 
result  in  any  case.  But  God's  ways  are  not 
our  ways ;  and,  strange  though  it  seems  to  us, 
'tis  doubtless  true — that  if  anything  redeems 
Golightley  Urmson's  soul,  'twill  be  his  hav- 
ing slain  his  brother  at  the  moment  when  he 
sought  his  own  life.  And  Cuthbert,  I'm 
well  assured,  would  gladly  have  laid  down 
his  life  for  such  an  end.  Nay,  it  was  a  hap- 
py release  to  him  in  any  case.  The  disease 
he  had  would  have  killed  him,  with  lingering 
pgin,  after  a  few  months  more.  But,  as  it 
•was — -just  one  heart-throb,  and  then — rest!  " 
The  professor's  throat  swelled,  and  his  eye- 
glasses became  him. 

A  few  moments  afterward  Garth  came 
in.  He  wore  a  long  top-coat  with  a  cape  to 
it,  and  held  a  fold  of  papers  in  his  hand. 
Standing  by  the  fireplace,  facing  them  all, 
his  square,  impressive  figure  and  visage 
filled  the  eye  of  the  beholder  and  satisfied 
it,  as  a  portrait  by  Eembrandt  might  have 
done ;  only  that  Garth  was  no  portrait,  but 
a  reality.  His  beard  was  gone,  and  a  deep 
scar  was  visible  on  his  chin. 

"  I've  read  what  my  uncle  wrote  in  Eve's 
chamber,  on  that  night,"  said  he.  "  Before 
I  go,  I  must  tell  you  of  it.— Elinor,  you  re- 
member his  story,  that  first  evening  we  sat 
round  this  hearth  ?  It  was  a  veiled  confes- 
sion, characteristic  of  him.  Did  you  ever 
think  what  that  triangular  parchment  may 
have  been  ? " 

"  He  told  me,  once— at  least,  he  hinted 
that  it  was  a  later  will  of  his  father's,  leav- 
ing every  thing  to  him." 

Garth  shook  his  head.  "  It  was  not  that. 
It  was  the  marjiage-lines  of  Brian  Urmson 
and  Maud  Golightley,  dated  at  Jamestown 
in  1781.  The  marriage  was  a  secret  one  : 
their  second  marriages,  which  each  made  in 
the  belief  of  the  other's  death,  were  illegal ; 
and  the  children  of  them — my  father  and 
Mrs.  Tenterden — illegitimate." 

"Ay,  and  so  poor  Maud's  flight  north- 
ward is  explained,"  murmured  the  professor, 
grasping  his  beard  and  throwing  one  knee 
over  the  other.  "  It  was  her  husband,  not 
her  lover,  that  she  sought.  But  proceed, 
sir!" 

"I  tell  it  only  for  its  bearing  on  my 
uncle.  Maud  and  Captain  Brian  agreed 


never  to  reveal  their  secret,  and  thus  dig- 
credit  their  innocent  children.  The  captain 
had  already  willed  his  property  to  Cuthbert ; 
Maud,  when  she  disappeared  from  her  home, 
left  all  she  had  to  Mildred.  But  when  Eve 
and  Golightley  were  born — the  first  and  only 
legitimate  children — the  captain  changed 
his  will ;  half  the  property  was  to  go  to 
Eve;  the  other  half,  less  two  thousand 
pounds,  remained  Cuthbert's:  the  two  thou- 
sand was  for  Golightley. 

"Long  after  Maud's  death,  Golightley 
found  the  marriage-lines  in  the  garret,  and 
learned  that  he  was  the  only  legitimate  son 
and  heir.  He  was  not  man  enough  either  to 
confront  the  captain  with  the  record,  or  to 
burn  it  up  and  say  nothing.  Instead,  he  hid 
it,  and,  without  ever  meaning  to  use  it 
against  his  brother,  he  enjoyed  the  secret 
sense  of  power  it  gave  him.  He  brooded 
over  the  injustice  done  him,  and  by  degrees 
lost  all  habit  of  frank  speech  and  thought, 
and  grew  sly  and  hypocritical.  It's  piteous 
to  think  of!  for,  after  all,  his  intentions 
were  good." 

"  But  if  ever  a  man  paved  hell  with  such 
things,  he  did!  "  muttered  Jack. 

"  It  was  not  until  after  he  got  to  Europe, 
and  fell  into  difficulties,"  resumed  Garth, 
"  that  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  has  written 
here  :  '  If  I  ask  the  captain  for  part  of  the 
money  which  should  by  rights  have  belonged 
to  me,  he  will  give  it  me  rather  than  have 
Cuthbert  know  that  his  mother  was  not  a 
wife.'  And  when,  twenty  years  afterward, 
he  met  the  Tenterdens,  he  said  in  the  same 
way :  '  This  fortune  ought  to  be  mine ;  I  was 
defrauded  out  of  it.'  It  seems  to  me  tragi- 
cal! His  sin,  as  he  told  us  in  his  story,  was 
so  subtile,  that  the  more  it  was  reasoned 
about,  the  more  like  a  virtue  it  looked :  and 
his  Doppelganger,  though  secretly  poisoning 
his  soul,  was  ostensibly  his  best  friend  all 
the  while." 

."  "Well — there  may  be  a  clean  spot  left 
somewhere  on  his  moral  carcass  yet — I  hope 
|  there  is,  with  all  my  heart !  "  exclaimed  Jack. 
"  But  I  should  admire  him  even  more  than  I 
do,  if,  when  he  contemplated  endowing  an- 
other world  with  himself,  he  had  burned 
up  the  triangular  parchment,  and  held  his 
tongue." 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD. 


285 


"  He  did  try  to  burn  it,  but  his  heart 
failed  him,"  replied  Garth.  "  He  could  not 
bear  to  die  without  having  put  his  poor  ex- 
cuse before  the  world.  He  had  found  an 
honest  way  to  be  dishonest :  there  could 
hardly  be  a  more  perilous  discovery.  I 
don't  think  we  ought  to  condemn  him. — 
Well,  I  didn't  mean  to  talk  so  much ;  but  I 
couldn't  be  silent  either  1 " 

With  these  words  Garth  thrust  the  folded 
papers  into  his  pocket,  and  met  the  glance 
of  each  of  his  three  friends  in  turn;  and 
in  all  he  read  the  silent  acknowledgment  of 
his  appeal  for  mercy.  After  a  pause  he 
said : 

"Now  Tin  going! " 

He  shook  hands  with  Professor  Grindle, 
and  with  Jack,  who,  after  the  manner  of 
deep-hearted  men,  tried  to  make  the  strenu- 
ousness  of  their  gripe  compensate  for  the 
barrenness  of  their  farewell  words.  But 
Elinor,  as  she  put  her  hand  in  his,  remem- 
bered their  former  parting,  in  the  firelight 
on  the  frozen  lake,  a  week  before,  and  said, 
"  God  help  you,  Garth !  "  as  she  had  said  it 
then. 

As  he  stood  on  the  porch  a  few  minutes 
afterward,  the  venerable  parson  drove  up  in 
his  sleigh.  Although  this  reverend  gentle- 
man had  officiated  at  the  funeral  the  day 
previous,  and  had  come  this  morning  on 
purpose  to  see  Garth  off,  he  had  become 
quite  oblivious  of  both  facts  during  his  morn- 
ing drive  through  the  cold,  bright  air. 

"What!  Garth,  lad,  where  are  you  off 
so  early  ? "  he  bellowed.  "  Going  courting, 
I  expect — eh,  ho,  ho,  ho!  Well,  you'll  find 
her  at  the  cottage,  I  suppose,  though,  now  I 
think  of  it,  I've  not  seen  Maggie  for  the  last 
day  or  two.  But  you'll  find  her,  I  don't 
doubt.  Well,  good  luck  to  ye,  dear  lad,  and 
a  happy  New-Year!  Oh,  ay,  you  young 
folks  think  all  your  years  are  sure  to  be  hap- 
py ones:  but  I  guess  you'll  be  none  the 
worse  off  for  an  old  man's  blessing,  any  way 
— eh  ?  haw,  haw,  haw !  " 

With  that  laugh,  mighty  in  spite  of  its 
occasional  cracks  and  quavers  resounding  in 
his  ears,  and,  as  it  were,  driving  home  the 
godspeed  which  had  preceded  it,  Garth 
started  on  his  quest. 


CHAPTER  LXXXIII. 

THE    WAT   OF    THE    WORLD. 

NINE  months  later,  as  Garth  was  packing 
his  trunk  in  a  room  of  one  of  the  smaller 
Parisian  hotels,  a  card  was  brought  up  to 
him ;  and  almost  before  ho  had  found  time 
to  read  the  name  it  bore,  the  person  to  whom 
the  name  belonged  made  his  appearance. 

"  Garth,  dear  old  curmudgeon!  " 

"Jack!" 

They  shook  hands ;  but  the  next  moment 
Selwyn  impulsively  threw  his  arms  round 
his  friend,  and  hugged  him. 

"  Are  you  packing  that  trunk  or  unpack- 
ing it? "  he  demanded. 

"  I  am  starting  for  Vienna  this  afternoon. 
How  long  since  you  have  been  on  this  side 
of  the  water?" 

"  Not  long.     But  why  to  Vienna  ?  " 

"I've  not  found  her  yet,"  replied  Garth, 
looking  down,  "  but  I  heard— " 

"  I  know  you  haven't  found  her !  " 

Garth  looked  up. 

"  Because  I  found  her  myself,  yesterday," 
Jack  continued.  "  I  say,  don't  look  at  a  fel- 
low that  way!  I've  done  you  no  harm! " 

"Does  she  know  I  am  here? " 

"  Yes.  Garth — she's  been  playing  hide- 
and-seek  with  yon 'from  the  beginning:  she 
won't  see  you:  she's  afraid  of  you:  you'll 
never  meet  her — and  that's  the  long  and 
short  of  it !  " 

"  She  need  not  be  afraid  of  me,"  said 
Garth,  with  a  deep  tremor  in  his  voice. 
"Where  is  she?" 

"  I  promised  her  not  to  tell." 

Garth's  face  slowly  darkened :  but  Jack, 
with  tears  springing  to  his  eyes,  came  and 
sat  on  his  knee  and  put  one  arm  across  his 
shoulders. 

"Just  listen  tome,  will  you?  and  don't 
break  my  heart  by  sticking  that  cursed  ob- 
stinacy of  yours  in  the  face  of  God's  Provi- 
dence !  There  are  some  things  no  man  can 
do;  and  this  is  one  of  them.  Look  here — 
the  confounded  woman  is  married !  " 

"  Is  that  the  truth  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  I  came  here  to  lie  to  you, 
Garth  Urmson  ?  Of  course  she  is  married, 
man  !  She's  not  such  a  fool —  As  to  who 


286 


GARTH. 


her  husband  is,  that's  of  small  consequence ; 
some  infernal  German  baron  or  other !  She's 
living  a  life  you'd  as  well  not  inquire  into ; 
but  it  might  have  been  worse.  She  has  got 
what  she  bargained  for,  and  it's  to  be  sup- 
posed she  likes  it.  She's  the  finest  woman 
on  the  Continent,  past  the  ghost  of  a  doubt : 
but — well,  she  wishes  yon  to  let  her  alone. 
She  said  you  hadn't  cared  for  her  for  the  last 
four  years  at  least,  and,  in  proof  of  it,  she 
showed  me  a  sketch  you'd  made  while  you 
and  I  were  over  here  together,  of  a  certain 
young  lady's  face.  I  must  say  that  rather 
floored  me! " 

Garth  started  and  reddened.  "  Elinor's! " 
he  murmured. 

"  Never  mind,  old  boy !  "  said  Jack .  "  I've 
had  time  to  forgive  you  since  yesterday, 
though  she  has  not,  but  keeps  the  sketch  al- 
ways within  reach — a  sort  of  memento  mori, 
you  know.  But  all  I  meant  to  prove  to  you 
is,  that  you  can't  do  anything — you  simply 
cannot ! " 

Garth  sat  gazing  straight  before  him,  his 
hand  twisting  the  hair  that  clustered  on  his 
head,  as  Selwyn  had  so  often  seen  him  do, 
when  deep  in  thought,  at  college.  At  last 
he  said,  almost  inaudibly : 
"Well." 

"I'll  step  out  on  the  balcony,"  added 
Jack,  getting  off  his  friend's  knee,  "and 
smoke  a  cigar,  while  you're — unpacking  that 
trunk  again !  Then  I  shall  have  something 
else  to  tell  you." 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  with  a  smile,  "  I 
don't  need  to  be  alone,  Jack.  I've  done  my 
best :  now  I  give  it  up.  May  God  bless 
her !  " 

"  Amen ! — though  she  is  the  devil !  "  mut- 
tered Jack. 

"  As  to  your  other  news,  I  can   guess 

what  that  is,"  continued  Garth.     "  You  are 

going  to  be — or  perhaps  you  already  are — " 

"  Let  me  tell  my  own  news,  will  you  ? — 

I'm  engaged ! " 

"  Is  that  your  idea  of  news? " 
"It  is  news,  you'll  find!     I'm  engaged — 
but  not  to  Elinor  Golightley !  " 

"  I  don't  understand  you !  "  said  Garth, 

after  a  pause,  his  brows  lowering  somewhat. 

"  Let's  look  at  him !  is  he  entirely  shocked, 

or  secretly  pleased  into  the  bargain? — En- 


tirely shocked,  of  course !     Well,  the  name 
of  the  new  young  lady — you  have  heard  of 
her:  we  used  to  read  poetry  about  her  in 
college — is  Bellona,  goddess  of  war!  " 
"Jack,  tell  me  what  you  mean !  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  it's  much  to  my 
credit,"  said  Jack,  with  rather  a  sad  laugh, 
"but  it's  this  way:  Elinor  Golightley  is 
beyond  me.  She  strikes  notes  I  can  never 
reach,  tiptoe  as  I  may;  and  if  the  love  I've 
felt  for  her  can't  make  me  reach  them,  noth- 
ing else  can.  So  I  give  it  up,  as  you  say. 
She  said  to  me  nine  months  ago:  'You  don't 
know  me;  but  you  shall  have  opportunity 
to  know  me,  and  then — '  Garth,  I  should 
be  a  fool  as  well  as  a  selfish  brute  if  I  mar- 
ried her.  She  is  meat  for  heroes ;  by  which 
I  mean  to  say  (though  I'm  not  given  to  run- 
ning myself  down  as  a  general  thing)  that 
she's  beyond  me,  and  beyond  any  man  I 
know — except  one  ! " 

"  I'm  glad  you  spoke  to  me  of  tins.  Jack," 
said  Garth,  rising  from  his  chair  and  going 
up  to  him.  "I  may  be  able  to  save  you 
from  making  a  great  mistake.  I  don't  know 
what  has  put  these  notions  into  your  head — 
but  it's  all  wrong!  You  love  her  so  well 
that  you  think  you  can't  be  worthy  of  her — 
that's  all.  It's  what  every  honest  man  feels 
about  the  woman  he  loves;  and  it's  a  true 
feeling ;  but,  if  we  didn't  trust  to  God  to 
make  us  worthy,  there  would  soon  be  no 
more  marriages !  Besides,  you  must  think 
of  her!  Women  don't  love  as  we  do;  and 
certainly  Elinor  Golightley,  with  her  shy- 
ness and  haughtiness —  Don't  laugh,  Jack, 
at  my  pretending  to  instruct  you  in  these 
matters.  When  a  man  is  in  love,  as  you  are, 
his  friend  may  sometimes  comprehend  his 
position  better  than  he  himself  can — even 
though  that  friend  be  ordinarily  thick- 
headed!" 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  have  long  known  that 
your  thick-headedness  is  merely  an  appear- 
ance, artfully  assumed  to  cover  fathomless 
depths  of  guile.  But  I'm  all  the  more 
obliged  to  you!  By-the-way,  what  do  you 
think  of  doing  with  yourself  now  ?  Go' 
home,  or  become  an  exile  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know !  "  said  Garth,  a  little  dis- 
concerted. 

"What  do  you  say  to  coming  down  with 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD. 


287 


me  to  Italy,  and  joining  Garibaldi?  You 
could  wear  that  old  red  shirt  of  yours,  you 
know,  and  be  quite  in  the  fashion.  But  you 
must  be  ready  to  start  in  three  days,  for  all 
my  preparations  are  made.  Come,  I  won't 
be  jealous,  even  in  the  event  of  your  rising 
faster  and  higher  in  the  good  graces  of  Miss 
Bellona  than  I  do !  Will  you  go  ?  " 

"  You  will  not  go,  Jack." 

"  Now,  by  God !  "  cried  Selwyn,  the  blood 
rushing  to  his  cheeks,  "I  won't  be  bullied 
and  dictated  to  by  you !  I'm  no  baby,  Garth, 
to  go  babbling  about  without  a  purpose !  I 
have  learned  a  fact  which,  if  I  hadn't  been  a 
blind  ass,  I  should  have  seen  from  the  be- 
ginning; I  come  to  you  to  ask  your  pardon 
and  make  amends,  and  you  put  me  off  with 
a  long-winded,  flowery  speech,  that  has  no 
particle  of  sincerity  in  it.  ...  Well,  no,  I 
don't  mean  that.  But  it's  no  use,  old  fel- 
low !  I  shouldn't  have  come  to  you  if  it 
hadn't  been  settled.  The  fact  is,  she  loves 
you,  and  has  always  loved  you ;  you  love 
her,  and  have  always  loved  her.  You  were 
born  and  grown  for  each  other.  Bless  you, 
my  children !  This  is  irregular  and  prema- 
ture, of  course ;  and  as  Aunt  Mildred  would 
say,  'I'm  perfectly  scandalized,  my  good 
fathers,  well  I  do  think  in  my  heart,  did  you 
ever ! '  But  why  should  we  dodge  each  other, 
Garth  ? " 

Garth  knew  that,  beneath  this  screen  of 
gayety,  his  friend  was  rendering  him  the 
dearest  sacrifice  that  friends  can  make:  and 
he  blenched  at  the  thought  of  taking  the 
bread  of  life  from  the  mouth  of  this  too 
generous  recusant. 

"You  have  no  grounds  for  what  you  as- 
sume, Jack,"  he  said,  with  a  troubled  voice. 
u  Don't  do  what  both  you  and  she  might 
regret  forever! " 

Selwyn  again  approached  him  and  threw 
his  arm  round  him.  "  Garth,  do  violets  ever 
grow  in  New  Hampshire  so  late  as  Octo- 
ber?" he  asked.  "Ha!  theatric  start  of 
villain  detected  in  his  guilt ! — Because  I  saw 
one  a  few  days  ago — pressed,  yon  know,  on 
.the  blank  leaf  between  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments  of  a  little  pocket  Bible — which  I 
hope  you  may  have  the  pleasure  of  perusing 
some  time.  And  what  with  the  violet  and 
the  sketch,  and  my  own  mother-wit  and 


wisdom,  here  I  am,  requesting  the  honor  of 
shaking  hands  with  you !  " 

"  O  Jack,  I  wish  it  had  been  my  luck  to 
do  this  for  you !  " 

"  Give  me  that  old  red  shirt  of  yours  in- 
stead, and  I'll  call  it  square,"  returned  Jack, 
laughing  lightly.  "  Well,  good-by  for  the 
present.  Of  course,  you  know,  if  it  would 
really  inconvenience  you  very  much  to  leave 
a  card,  any  time  during  the  week,  at  a  cer- 
tain suite  of  rooms  in  the  Grand  Hotel — it's 
your  own  affair,  and  I  shouldn't  dream  of 
forcing  your  inclination.  I  am  off  for  my 
general's  tent  in  Italy.  A  hero's  death,  or 
victory  and  no  pay !  Farewell !  " 

So  one  day  Garth  found  himself  in  a 
large  room,  all  mirrors,  gilding,  and  French 
furniture,  waiting  for  some  one  to  ap- 
pear. 

She  came  in  at  last,  with  a  wide  throw- 
ing-open  of  the  door  which  had  always  char- 
acterized her,  and  was  not  inconsistent  with 
a  nature  in  so  many  ways  reserved  and  shy. 
Garth  stepped  forward  to  meet  her,  and  they 
shook  hands:  her  hand  was  cold,  she  scarce- 
ly smiled,  and  her  face  wore  that  distant  arid 
rather  haughty  expression  which  he  knew 
so  well,  and  loved  because  he  knew  it.  Then 
followed  some  highly-commonplace  conver- 
sation; and,  at  last,  Garth  bethought  him- 
self to  inquire : 

"  Is  Mrs.  Tenterden  well?  " 

"  I  believe  so — yes,  I  mean,  very  well ! 
She'll  be  down  in  a  minute." 

Elinor  had  taken  her  seat  on  one  of  those 
comfortless  little  gilded  chairs  which  only  a 
French  mind  could  have  originated  ;  a  chair 
which  made  her  seem  three  times  as  unap- 
proachable as  she  would  have  looked  with- 
out it,  and  that  is  saying  much.  But  a  brave 
man  is  not  to  be  defeated  even  by  a  French 
chair.  Garth  walked  across  the  polished 
floor  and  stood  beside  her.  She  glanced  up 
in  fear — in  that  sweetest  of  all  fears,  which 
no  pen  can  describe.  He  said : 

"  Then  I  have  only  a  minute  to  tell  you 
that  I  love  you.  I  want  to  tell  you  with  my 
whole  life!" 

It  was  not  more  awkward,  perhaps,  than 
most  impromptu  love  declarations.  He  had 
an  idea,  but  not  the  leisure  or  composure 


288 


GARTH. 


to  present  it  in  its  neatest  or  most  logical 
form. 

Elinor  drooped,  and  hung  her  head. 
Garth  bent  and  kissed  her  cheek,  which 
flamed  pink  as  the  kiss  came.  An  instant 
later  she  had  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  risen, 
and  looked  in  his  eyes.  "What  were  French 
chairs,  or  the  world,  to  them  ? 

Mrs.  Tenterden  did  not  make  her  en- 
trance for  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  such, 
at  least,  was  the  testimony  of  the  two  clocks 
—  the  ormolu  and  the  bronze  one — which 
ticked  at  each  other  from  the  ornamental 
mantel-pieces  at  opposite  sides  of  the  room. 
But  to  Garth  and  Elinor  it  was  a  long  time, 
because  enough  for  them  to  be  made  all  over 
new  in  it:  and  yet  the  least  of  times,  be- 
cause, probably,  there  was  a  taste  of  eternity 
in  it. 

Just  before  Mrs.  Tenterden  appeared, 
Elinor  said : 

"Dear  Jack!  I  love  him,  Garth!  " 

Garth,  strange  to  tell,  kissed  her  for  those 
words.  But  such  is  friendship,  and  such  is 
love ! 


CHAPTER  LXXXIV. 

UEMnUEST     STEPS     DOWN. 

THE  August  of  the  following  year  was  a 
very  hot  one  in  New  England;  and,  when 
Garth  and  his  wife  landed  in  Boston,  their 
scheme  of  riding  by  easy  stages  to  Urmhurst 
seemed  by  no  means  so  practicable  as  it  had 
done  while  they  were  still  on  the  cool  At- 
lantic. 

"  Wife,  we  must  give  it  up !  "  said  Garth. 
"  The  horses  would  be  sunstruck  even  if  we 
escaped." 

"  Perhaps  it  will  be  cooler  soon  ?  "  sug- 
gested Elinor. 

"  Not  for  six  weeks  at  least !  "  returned 
the  husband,  shaking  his  head.  "  Except  at 
night !  "  he  added.  "  You  never  experienced 
a  New  England  summer." 

"  Show  me  an  almanac,"  said  the  wife, 
after  a  pause. 

"Here  is  the  'Farmer's  Almanac,'  "  an- 
swered the  husband,  taking  it  from  his  pock- 
et. "Sit  down,  and  I'll  show  you.  But 
I  hope  my  wife  is  not  so  weak-minded  as 


to  believe  that  these  prophecies  are  trust- 
worthy?" 

"  Garth,  this  is  only  an  hotel  parlor ! 
Some  one  might  come  in!  " 

Garth  took  no  notice  of  this  irrelevant 
remark. 

"  This  is  the  twelfth  ? "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  the  eleventh,"  said  accurate  Elinor. 

"  Well,  here  is  the  twelfth,  then !  " 

"  O  Garth !  you  know  you  meant  what 
day  of  the  month !  " 

"  Men  are  not  like  women ;  they  can  mean 
more  than  one  thing  at  a  time!"  returned 
the  husband,  with  an  unsympathetic  laugh. 
"  Well,  look  here — as  Jack  would  say — 'Au- 
gust eleventh ' — " 

"Dear  old  Jack!" 

"  We  must  get  in  the  habit  of  calling  him 
Lieutenant,  Mrs.  Urmson;  for  if  his  wound 
is  well  enough  for  him  to  meet  us  on  the 
Nile  next  winter,  he  will  stand  upon  his 
rank."  Elinor  thought  in  her  heart  that 
his  wound  would  not  be  well  enough,  either 
then  or  thereafter ;  but  she  said  nothing,  and 
Garth  went  on :  "  '  August  eleventh — about 
this  time  expect  warm  weather,  with  occa- 
sional thunder- showers.'  How  do  you  sup- 
pose the  man  could  have  known?  " 

"Give  me  the  almanac!  That  is  not 
what  I  wanted  to  see  at  all !  " 

"  It's  no  trouble  for  me  to  hold  it  for 
you." 

"You  promised  me  you  would  shave 
every  day,  and  I  am  sure  you  have  not  done 
it !  Tell  me  about  the  moon." 

"  The  moon  is  round :  it  is  like  a  cheese : 

it  has  two  eyes,  a  nose,  and stay  one 

moment;  thirteen  is  an  unlucky  number, 
Elinor — Mrs.  Tenterden  says  so !  " 

"  O  Garth  !  you  have  grown  so  silly  since 
we  were  married — and  so  sweet!  I  always 
have  to  laugh  at  you  now ;  and  I  used  to  be 
afraid  of  you,  even  after  I  began  to  like  you .' 
But  tell  me,  really,  when  is  there  a  full 
moon?" 

"  On  tho  fifteenth,  dear  Mrs.  Urmson." 

"  And  how  long  would  it  take  us  to  ride 
to  Urmhurst  ? " 

"  Three  or  four  days." 

"  Well,  then,  don't  you  see,  my  good  but 
slow-witted  husband,  that  we  can  also  ride 
there  in  three  or  four  nights,  when  there 


URMHURST  STEPS   DOWN. 


289 


will  be  no  hot  sunshine,  but  only  a  cool,  beau- 
tiful moonlight :  and  in  the  daytime  we  can 
have  siestas,  like  people  in  the  tropics — now, 
isn't  that  a  good  idea? " 

"We'll  try  it,"  replied  Garth,  with  an 
affectation  of  non-committal  gravity.  "  At 
least  it  may  save  us  something  in  mosqui- 
toes." 

That  same  night,  accordingly,  they  set 
out,  having  previously  dispatched  a  courier 
before  them  to  prepare  a  halting-place  for 
the  next  day.  The  experiment  was  a  com- 
plete success;  they  rode  leisurely  onward, 
and,  as  the  city  was  left  behind  them,  there 
were  only  the  inner  voice  of  crickets  and 
tree-frogs,  and  the  clear  hoof-tramps  of  the 
two  gray  horses  to  interrupt  the  deep  moon- 
lit stillness.  The  world  seemed  all  their 
own — a  grave,  silent,  beautiful  solitude.  It 
pleased  them  more  than  bustle  and  brill- 
iance, for  it  seemed  to  press  them  yet  more 
closely  to  each  other,  and  to  expound  to 
them  the  full,  ineffable  delight  of  mutual 
love  and  dependence.  Occasionally  the  front 
of  a  wayside  farm-house,  gray  with  the  rains 
and  suns  of  many  years,  or  glistening  white 
with  new  paint,  would  echo  back  the  sound 
of  the  horses'  hoofs ;  or  a  dog  would  bark 
watchfully,  and  be  answered  by  other  dogs 
far  off  and  near.  Sometimes  tall  elm  or 
butternut  trees  flung  their  black  shadows 
across  the  pale  roadway;  sometimes  sweet 
odors  of  unseen  flowers  breathed  forth  a 
greeting.  When  a  brook  crossed  their  path, 
they  would  draw  rein  awhile  to  listen  to  its 
liquid  volubility;  and  again,  they  paused 
long  to  catch  the  distant  murmur  of  the 
Atlantic  on  their  right.  It  was  a  journey 
of  enchantment  through  a  land  of  dreams. 
True,  there  were  mosquitoes  —  a  sharp- 
tongued,  business-like  race,  who  do  much  to 
mitigate  the  romance  of  New  England  sum- 
mer nights ;  but  even  they  were  greatly 
baffled  by  the  breeze  of  their  victims'  mo- 
tion, and  could  scarcely  do  more  than  make 
the  enchantment  seem  less  of  a  dream  and 
more  of  a  reality. 

Garth  and  Elinor  talked  but  little  as  they 
rode ;  but  for  miles  at  a  stretch  they  would 
go  hand-in-hand  ;  and  sometimes,  where  the 
road  was  even  and  the  pace  a  walk,  the  hus- 
band's arm  would  find  its  way  round  the 
19 


wife's  waist.  At  last,  just  as  the  dawn  be- 
gan to  blanch  the  east,  and  the  first  bird 
launched  forth  its  song,  they  came  to  the 
farm-house  where  they  were  to  pass  the 
day;  and,  while  the  haymakers  sweltered 
in  the  noontide  sun,  they  slept.  In  the  af- 
ternoon they  put  on  broad-brimmed  straw 
hats  and  strolled  forth  into  the  fields  and 
rocky  pastures,  and  sat  beneath  the  shadow 
of  trees,  or  stained  their  fingers  and  lips 
with  blackberries,  and  at  night,  after  the 
farm-folks  had  gone  yawning  to  bed,  Garth 
saddled  the  horses  and  they  set  forth  once 
more. 

On  the  fourth  night  they  started  from  a 
spot  about  seven  miles  south  of  Wabeno, 
purposing  to  be  at  Urmhurst  by  sunrise. 
The  road  mounted  a  long,  irregular  acclivity, 
and  so  found  its  way  to  a  rocky  pass  which 
wound  through  the  midst  of  the  mountain. 
On  arriving  at  the  highest  point  of  this  pass, 
the  whole  valley  suddenly  lay  disclosed  be- 
fore them,  with  the  long  curves  of  the  river 
whitening  beneath  the  western  moon.  But 
overhead  a  black  cloud  was  gathering,  and  a 
distant  rumble  of  thunder  gave  warning  of 
a  coming  shower.  The  riders  urged  their 
horses  beneath  the  low-spreading  branches 
of  a  chestnut-tree,  where  the  heaviest  rain 
would  hardly  reach  them ;  and  there  they 
waited,  gazing  out  upon  the  broad  pros- 
pect. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  see  dear  old  Urm- 
hurst again — sha'n't  you  ?  "  said  Elinor. 

"  I  shall  be  glad ;  but  I  am  more  glad 
that  we  are  not  to  live  there.  It  was  a 
strange  fancy  our  coming  here  even  for  a 
day.  All  the  business  might  just  as  well 
have  been  done  by  letter." 

"  But  we  could  not  have  seen  Parson 
Graeme  and  Nikomis  by  letter!  I  hope 
he  has  remembered  to  tell  her  that  we  are 
coming." 

"  Our  courier  will  have  informed  her,  at 
any  rate.  She  probably  knows,  even  with- 
out witchcraft,  just  where  we  are  at  this 
moment." 

"I  wonder  whether  she  will  be  glad  to 
see  us?" 

"I  sha'n't  expect  much  cordiality.  But, 
when  she  hears  our  errand,  she  ought  to  un- 
bend a  little.  I  have  an  idea  of  making  a 


290 


GARTH. 


groat  picture  in  illustration  of  an  ancient 
prophecy  —  did  I  ever  tell  it  you?  —  about 
Urmhurst  and  "Wabeno?  " 

"I  remember!  —  when  Urmhurst  leaves 
its  moorings,  Wabeno  is  to  roar —  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  shall  paint  that. »  .  .  How  bright 
that  light  is  growing !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  it  must  be  very  far  off.  Isn't 
that  about  where  Urmhurst  is? " 

"Yes." 

"Oh,  how  it  blazes  up!  What  can  it 
be?  —  Oh,  Garth—"  She  turned  quickly 
to  him,  and  put  her  hand  excitedly  on  his 
arm. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  in  a  low  voice,  answering 
her  unuttered  suggestion ;  "  it  is  that,  Eli- 
nor; Urmhurst  is  on  fire!  " 

As  he  spoke,  there  came  a  flash  of  light- 
ning, instantly  followed  by  a  thunder-peal 
so  loud  that  it  seemed  to  shake  the  moun- 
tain. The  horses  started  and  trembled. 
Other  peals  followed  in  quick  succession ;  it 
was  as  if  Wabeno  had  suddenly  awakened 
from  his  sleep  of  unknown  ages,  and  were 
rousing  himself  to  some  great  occasion  with 
roar  on  roar.  Meanwhile  the  flame  of  the 
burning  house  rose  higher,  and  its  glare  was 
reflected  from  the  smooth  surface  of  the  lake 
below,  and  a  dark  mass  of  clouds  to  the 
northward  glowed  dull  red  above.  It  blazed 
a  mighty  beacon  to  all  the  land.  The  wife 
and  husband  sat  and  watched,  not  speaking, 
but  full  of  many  thoughts.  The  ancient 
prophecy  was  undergoing  fulfillment,  and 
they  were  there  to  see  and  hear.  They  were 
witnessing  the  last  act  of  a  long  and  gloomy 
drama ;  it  was  a  wholesome  act ;  the  beacon 
was  of  promise,  not  of  despair.  Urmhurst, 
whose  foundations  had  been  laid  in  violence 
and  sacrilege,  and  which  had  held  its  position 
through  more  than  two  centuries  of  wrong 
and  disaster,  was  now  vanishing  (like  the 
castles  of  wicked  enchanters  in  fairy-t^Us,, 
because  the  evil  and  lawless  spirit  which  had 
called  it  into  existence  had  been  finally  met 
and  overcome.  The  spectacle  was  not  there- 
fore a  lamentable  one;  and  yet — there  be- 
ing so  much  in  all  human  works,  not  me- 
chanical, that  appeals  to  human  hearts — 
Garth  and  Elinor  could  not  behold  the  an- 
nihilation of  the  strong  old  house  unmoved. 
In  this  world,  where  nothing  that  seems 


stable  is  really  so,  all  partings  that  are  final 
must  be  sad.  Long  sat  they  there  watching, 
while  the  thunder  rolled  about  the  moun- 
tain, and  from  time  to  time  passionate 
showers  fell.  When  the  storm  was  over, 
they  rode  forward,  the  glow  of  the  confla- 
gration still  lighting  the  northern  sky.  But, 
as  they  drew  nearer,  the  earthly  fire  faded, 
the  clouds  vanished  from  the  heavens,  and 
the  sun  rose  clear.  It  flung  the  shadow  of 
Urmhurst's  eastern  chimney  across  a  low 
heap  of  blackened  ruins ;  roof,  walls,  and 
porch,  were  gone ;  and  even  the  granite 
threshold  had  been  shattered  by  the  heat 
into  shapeless  fragments.  It  was  not  known 
how  the  fire  began,  nor  were  any  human  re- 
mains found  amid  the  ruins ;  but  th'at  old 
Indian  witch,  Nikomis,  had  disappeared,  and 
was  never  seen  again. 

Some  two  or  three  years  later  a  couple 
of  swifts  happened  to  meet  on  the  top  of 
that  tall  chimney,  which  stood  the  sole  sur- 
vivor of  Urmhurst.  One  was  an  exceed- 
ingly ancient  and  decrepit  swallow ;  the 
other  was  a  bird  of  middle  age,  who  had 
digested  his  wild-oats,  and  possessed  judg- 
ment. 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  changes  must 
have  occurred  in  these  parts,"  twittered  the 
latter.  "  Unless  I  am  mistaken,  there  was  a 
house  here  when  I  was  young,  and  another 
chimney — an  unsalubrious  one." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  you  are  quite  right,"  piped 
the  old  one,  garrulously.  "There  was  a 
house,  and  a  chimney,  an  unsalubrious  chim- 
ney— a  kitchen-chimney,  in  fact.  'Tis  a  sin- 
gular fact,  by-the-way,  that  kitchen-chim- 
neys are  always  unsalubrious.  I  don't  know 
whether  any  one  has  ever  generalized  the 
observation  before  me,  but  you  may  rely 
upon  it  as  being  a  correct  one." 

11 1  have  heard  it  before — when  I  was 
quite  young — and,  now  I  look  at  you,  I  be- 
lieve you  were  my  informant.  Yes,  it  is  a 
fact  of  general  application,  as  you  say.  In 
my  youth,  it  aroused  my  indignation,  and  I 
contemplated  crushing  out  the  abuse ;  but 
there  are  so  many  abuses!  The  world,  one 
is  tempted  to  believe,  almost  needs  abuses ; 
and  besides,  as  one  grows  older,  one  moder- 
ates somewhat  one's  zeal  for  reform.  In- 


URMI3URST  STEPS  DOWN. 


291 


stead  of  suppressing  abuses,  one  indulges  in 
abuse ! " 

"  Very  justly  put !  "  piped  the  veteran, 
wiping  his  bill  appreciatingly. 

"  I  was  going  to  inquire,"  resumed  the 
other,  disguising  his  satisfaction  at  the  com- 
pliment with  an  unconcerned  flirt  of  the 
wing,  "  whether  the  colony  has  permanently 
taken  flight  ?  You  are  the  oldest  bird  here- 
about, and,  I  doubt  not,  the  best  informed. 
How  is  it  ? " 

"  You  have  applied  to  the  right  quarter, 
I  assure  you,"  replied  the  elder,  highly  grati- 
fied in  his  turn.  "  If  any  one  can  afford  you 
information,  I  can.  The  fact  is,  then,  that 
since  the  disappearance  of  the  house,  the 
chimney  has  become  unfashionable,  and  not 
a  bird  has  built  in  it.  Now,  is  not  that  odd? 
There's  as  much  room  as  there  ever  was,  and 
no  disturbance;  and  yet  the  place  is  de- 
serted. The  house  was  never  a  bit  of  use  to 
us — rather  the  contrary,  some  would  say ! — 
and  yet,  since  it  has  departed,  so  have  we! 
Now,  how  would  you  account  for  that?  " 

The  younger  swift  turned  his  head  saga- 
ciously, first  on  one  side  and  then  on  an- 
other, but  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to 
hazard  an  explanation.  The  old  cock  wiped 
his  bill  again,  and  sidled  up  a  bit  closer. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  piped  confidentially, 
"  in  this  world»  it  is  the  indirect  causes  that 
are  the  most  efficacious !  You  can't  put  the 
fact  into  more  explicit  language  than  that, 
could  you  ?  The  indirect  causes  are  the  most 
efficacious ! " 


u  It  does  sound  well,  certainly  ;  and  now 
I  think  of  it,  I  remember  having  arrived  at 
some  such  conclusion  myself,  a  long  while 
ago.  But  is  there  no  prospect  of  a  new 
house  being  built  here,  in  place  of  the  old 
one?" 

"  No,  no,  no !  The  site  will  never  be 
used  again ;  though  some,  no  doubt,  think  it 
a  pity.  But  the  owner  has  crotchets.  How- 
ever, I  respect  crotchets ;  and  since  there's 
no  chance  of  the  owner's  living  here  him- 
self, I  don't  know  that  I  should  care  to  have 
any  one  else.  One  doesn't  usually  pay  much 
attention  to  men  and  women,  of  course, 
though  they  have  their  uses  —  their  indi- 
rect uses,  mind  you!  But  Garth  was  per- 
haps more  noticeable  than  some  men ;  he 
was  kind-hearted,  patient,  and  gentle.  To 
give  you  an  example  of  this :  I  once  had 
the  misfortune  to  break  this  limb,  and, 
in  consequence,  fell  down  the  chimney. 
He  happened  to  be  below,  picked  me  up, 
and  set  the  fracture  so  skillfully  that — 
eh?" 

The  other  swift  had  flown  away  almost  at 
the  beginning  of  this  speech,  without  the 
old  cock's  having  observed  the  circumstance. 
The  latter,  when  he  found  himself  alone,  was 
at  first  disposed  to  be  indignant;  but,  re- 
flecting that  truth  and  wisdom  remain  what 
they  are  in  spite  of  not  being  listened  to,  he 
smoothed  his  ruffled  feathers,  spread  his 
wings,  and  set  off  toward  the  South.  But 
the  great  chimney  still  stands  erect  and 
lonely,  a  landmark  for  many  miles. 


THE     END, 


APPLETONS' 


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